Heartwood
by jerzeyredhead
Summary: 1943 and Santana Lopez's father is overseas fighting in the war. A new surge of home front recruitment supporting the war effort spurs Santana to join the fight, earn a decent wage, and make a new home for herself. Her last chance for work and a place to live is far from where she imagined - The Pierce logging company in the Cascade range. Rated T for now. M later.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Hello fine readers! I'm back with a new story and my first foray into AU. Very different from my Mama Lopez fics, because, well, no Mama Lopez. BUT, hopefully you'll dig this AU version of Brittana. Short prologue to start you off. Updates will be at least once a month. Dust off your Big Band records, pull on your flannel and check your camping gear, because we're going on an adventure. As always, big love to slayhue for her beta wisdom.

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**PROLOGUE**

May 16, 1943 - Seattle

Her 20th birthday started with a door slam in her face, or rather, a very stern gate guard, denying her entrance. Santana Lopez traveled from California to the Naval shipyard in Seattle to do her part in the war effort. She grew up around boats in a small coastal town, so it seemed like a natural fit. Plus, the men she knew who worked the docks back home assured her the shipyards were hiring women. She even read it in the newspaper. She saw the posters. It was as if President Roosevelt himself asked her directly to leave home, join the war effort and earn a fair wage. Instead, she sat on a park bench, rubbing her aching feet propped up on her suitcase, wondering where she would sleep that night.

She walked the hour and a half from the shipyard, to Broadway and Yesler. The bus driver who wouldn't let her on was sympathetic enough to at least tell her where to go, and thankfully, it wasn't Hell. Santana walked into a coffee shop and sat down at the counter. It wasn't until she saw the dark brown hand slide the menu in front of her, did she look around and notice she was in a Negro establishment.

Santana looked up at the young waitress, "I'm sorry, is it okay that I'm here?" she asked as she gripped her suitcase handle near her feet.

"Gave you a menu didn't I," the waitress replied with an annoyed smirk. "What you havin'?"

"Coffee," Santana answered with a sigh of relief. "and the number two," she said, sliding the menu back across the counter with a smile.

The waitress' name tag read, "Penny".

"Number two!" Penny yelled over her shoulder toward the kitchen.

Penny returned with a pot of coffee and small pitcher of cream.

"You lost?" Penny asked, pouring the coffee into Santana's cup.

"You can say that," Santana replied, dejection and irritation clearly showing across her face. "Came to work at the shipyard."

"But they ain't hirin'," Penny replied with a shake of her head. "Well, they ain't hirin' _you_."

Santana looked at Penny with a furrowed brow.

"Or me," Penny added with a shrug.

"It was supposed to be different. They passed that _law_," Santana complained, jaw clenched as she sipped her coffee and swallowed hard.

"Just because they passed a law don't mean folks are going to abide by it. Where you from? You should know better than that. Or do you live in Fairyland?" Penny asked.

"No, no, it's not that different where I'm from," Santana admitted.

"Order up!" a man called from the kitchen.

Penny placed Santana's plate in front of her. "Eat. You'll feel better," Penny encouraged.

"Got a job hidden in these mashed potatoes? That'll make me feel better," Santana replied with more annoyance than she intended.

Penny shook her head and filled the napkin dispenser.

Santana forced herself to eat, despite the angry acid pooling in her stomach. Penny returned to refill her coffee cup.

"Know where I can get a room for the night?" Santana asked, pouring cream into her coffee.

"Two blocks down, on the right. Miss Hazel will take care of you," Penny replied. "You headin' home tomorrow?"

"No," Santana replied with a sigh. "Still looking for work, and word is, it's here. You know of anything?"

"Nope," Penny replied shaking her head. "But ask Miss Hazel when you get there. "If anyone knows anything, it's her," Penny smiled.

Santana thanked Penny, paid her tab, grabbed her suitcase and walked the two blocks to Miss Hazel's Hotel.

Miss Hazel's Hotel was in reality, a rooming house. But Miss Hazel herself sat behind the desk and welcomed Santana.

"How many nights dear?" Miss Hazel asked.

"Only one, I hope," Santana replied.

Miss Hazel frowned.

"Oh no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it about your hotel ma'am. I'm hoping to find work tomorrow," Santana clarified. "Actually, Penny down at the coffee shop said you might know who's hiring."

Miss Hazel looked Santana over and nodded in thought.

"Name?" Miss Hazel asked, pen poised over her ledger book.

"Santana Lopez."

"Address?"

"Don't have one," she said, clearing her throat.

Miss Hazel paused her pen, set it down and dug out a room key from a creaky wooden drawer.

"Room 515. Elevator's broken. Stairs are on your left. Dinner's at six. Don't be late or don't eat," Miss Hazel instructed.

"Thank you," Santana replied, taking the key from the old woman.

Santana paused, to see if Miss Hazel would say anything about work, but the old woman just looked back down at her ledger and began to write.

The stairs reminded Santana of how much her feet ached. When she arrived at her room, she unlocked her door and entered a simple yet clean room. She left her suitcase by the door, and threw her key on the nightstand. One single bed, one lamp, one sink and a tiny closet with just enough space for the toilet were the only things in the room. Honestly, they were the only things that would fit in the room.

Santana sat on the bed, kicked off her shoes, unpinned her hat from her hair, and fell onto her back, arms splayed. The exhaustion had hit her. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer for her father's safety and for herself, a job come morning.

She opened her eyes to a darkened room. She fumbled for the lamp switch and checked her watch.

"Shoot," she muttered, and rushed to put her shoes on. It was 5:55 pm.

Santana found the dining room and entered at exactly 6:00 pm. Miss Hazel stood behind the buffet table of salmon, potatoes, green beans and biscuits. Santana looked around the room as she hovered by the doorway. The clientele was a spectrum of browns and tans, the likes Santana never had seen in one place, or maybe at all. Miss Hazel smiled at her and nodded. Santana closed her mouth once she realized she was gaping, and stood in line for her meal.

"Smells delicious Miss Hazel," Santana complemented when she arrived with her plate in hand.

Miss Hazel just smiled as she filled Santana's plate.

"Come see me at the desk at nine for a nightcap, won't you?" Miss Hazel offered.

Santana started to say she doesn't really drink, but thought better of it.

"Thank you ma'am. I'd like that," Santana replied.

Santana sat by herself and ate her meal. She spent the time between bites surveying the room and the people who found their way to Miss Hazel's. Some servicemen, some that looked well off enough to be traveling, others looked like they needed a job months ago. Santana bussed her plate to a cart near the kitchen and returned to her room. She dug out her little alarm clock and set it for 8:45 pm, just in case she fell asleep again. Instead she pulled out her worn copy of The Odyssey, and began to read.

At 8:45 pm Santana put down her book and freshened up at the sink. She smoothed down the front of her dress and walked down stairs to meet Miss Hazel for a cocktail. Miss Hazel was behind the check-in desk, humming to jazz on the radio. She looked up and greeted Santana with a toothy grin.

"Follow me," Miss Hazel greeted.

Miss Hazel grabbed a bottle of liquor and two glasses from her desk and motioned and walked out from behind her desk, down the hall, to a small door. Santana followed Miss Hazel out the door and onto a small patio next to the fire escape at the back of the hotel. Two wrought iron chairs took up most of the space. Miss Hazel sat down and pulled a silver cigarette case out of her bra. She offered Santana one and Santana obliged. Miss Hazel lit Santana's cigarette, then her own. Miss Hazel inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh, curls of smoke seeping out her nostrils as she closed her mouth. She poured Santana a drink, then herself and clinked her glass with Santana's.

"To an end to the war," Miss Hazel toasted.

"To an end," Santana agreed.

"You Mexican?" Miss Hazel asked, after swallowing a mouthful of liquor.

"American," Santana replied.

Miss Hazel smiled. "You're a tiny thing. What are you, 100 pounds soaking wet?"

"125 last time I checked," Santana answered.

"Hmmm," Miss Hazel thought.

"Not much meat on ya. You got any muscle under all that skin and bones?"

"I'm strong enough," Santana replied.

"Stubborn enough, I'm sure," Miss Hazel assessed with a wink and another swig of her liquor. "There's work if you're willing."

"I'm willing," Santana said, sitting up and leaning toward Miss Hazel.

"I haven't told you what it is yet, have I? Don't know what you're getting into yet," Miss Hazel shook her head with a chuckle.

"Tell me," Santana implored.

"Logging company's hiring north east of the city. They couldn't keep the first three batches of women on. All quit. But they need the help. Got the ship _and_ the airplane contracts with the military," Miss Hazel said, her eyes fell to the glass in her hand. "They can't cut down trees or cut 'em up fast enough."

"Wait, what? They're hiring women to be...to be..._lumberjacks_?" Santana asked, wide-eyed.

"Don't let them hear you say that child. The proper term is _logger_," Miss Hazel explained. "They don't like 'lumberjack'."

"What does it pay?" Santana asked.

"Same as most of these government jobs. You make about $4 a day. Give or take," Miss Hazel replied.

Santana took a big swallow of what she thought was bourbon. Most jobs only paid $1.50 a day. This could be worth it for the money alone. But logging.

"Nothing else, huh? No other work?" Santana asked.

"None for girls that look like you. White girls snapped up most of the other jobs. All the good ones. Nice office jobs, or working inside, in a factory," Miss Hazel explained. "If you're interested, my nephew is heading up there tomorrow with a delivery. He'll give you a lift. Be out front. 6 am sharp," Miss Hazel explained, stubbing out her cigarette.

Santana didn't know what to think, as she laid in bed, watching the clock tick past 10, then 11. She was exhausted, but too nervous to sleep. What had she gotten herself into? She left her home, not that she could've stayed, really. Her father's practice was shut down and he was overseas. But now she was leaving the coast. The ocean that grounded her. That gave her a sense of peace. She was trading sun and sand and seafood for dark, damp woods in the middle of nowhere. Santana needed to get some sleep. Her alarm clock would ring far too quickly the next morning.

"Happy Birthday to me," she groaned.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I felt bad just having that little prologue teaser. Here's Chapter 1 for you to chew on this weekend. Rest of the updates will be at least once a month. Major props to Slayhue for being my beta extraordinaire. Give her a shout out on Twitter. Thank you again for reading and reviewing. You all are lovely people.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

Santana sat in the front passenger seat of the delivery truck, while Billy kept his quiet, shy eyes on the road. He didn't say three words to her since they left Seattle. The morning mist still clung to the trees in the valleys. As the truck strained to climb the next hill and bend in the road the trees got taller and thicker. Billy downshifted, and Santana's body lurched forward with the motion. The mountains loomed, as the truck wound its way into the foothills of the Cascade range. The scent of moss and damp wood filled her nose. The moist air began to cool. It was such an alien sense. So different from the salt sea air and warm dry sun of her home in California. Santana shifted her weight.

"You nervous?" Billy asked, not taking his eyes of the road.

"No," Santana replied.

But Santana was nervous. She was out of her element, out of money, and out of a home. Her one chance - her last chance - to work, and support herself and the war effort came down to one man, in the middle of nowhere Washington, who might take one look at her and send her on her way. And she didn't know to where that way led.

They turned off the paved road onto a gravel one, and wound their way further into the pine forest. Around the fifth bend, the road opened to a dirt clearing and the lumber mill came into view. It was constructed with a mix of wood and corrugated metal sheeting. The wet, wavy metal roof sparkled in the sun's light. It looked like it was winking at her, as it slowly rid itself of last night's rain. Santana could see, as they drove around toward the front, a conveyor belt sloped down the back of the building into the log-jammed mill pond. The squeal and screech of mechanical saws cleaving through logs and spitting out planks and boards was incessant. It made the back of Santana's teeth sting. Santana stepped out onto the soft dirt in front of the lumber mill and slammed the delivery truck door. The smell of sawdust mixed with pine was strong. A tall, slender man in his early 50s, with a wild shock of blonde hair and a clipboard in his hand walked up to meet Billy.

"This your new girlfriend Billy?" the man asked.

"Oh no Mr. Pierce, this is Miss...um...miss," Billy stumbled.

"Santana Lopez," Santana stated and held out her hand. Mr. Pierce shook it, and gave Santana an assessing look. "Miss Hazel said you were hiring and Billy was kind of enough to give me a ride."

Mr. Pierce smiled knowingly and shook his head. "Oh Hazel. We're all out of office jobs Miss Lopez. I'm hiring loggers."

"I'm well aware of that Mr. Pierce," Santana said firmly.

"I've had 30 women come through here. Not one could cut it. Not one. What makes you think a little thing like you can?" Mr. Pierce asked, with amused curiosity.

"I don't give up sir," Santana stated plainly.

"We'll see Miss Lopez. We'll see," Mr. Pierce replied. "Head on upstairs to the office. There's a group of girls claiming to be as stubborn as you are already there."

Santana thanked Billy and left him and Mr. Pierce to discuss the delivery. She walked up the creaky wooden steps to the office at top of the mill. Above the steps, on the little peaked roof that covered the landing to the office door, locks of blonde hair swung from the backside of the roof.

"Hello?" Santana softly called at the blonde hair.

An upside down face, with a surprised, then quickly turning to an impish grin dropped down from the edge of the roof. She put a finger to her lips.

"Shhhh, this is just getting good," she whispered and looked toward the transom window above the office door.

"Mr. Pierce said I should go to the office. Should I go in?" Santana whispered back.

The blonde woman shrugged and slipped back up on top of the roof, hidden away from sight.

Santana opened the office door and stepped into the middle of fight.

"Pierce has lost is damned mind!" a large, bruiser of a man complained.

Santana looked across the room to see, a stylish slender blonde woman, a small brunette, an asian and a negro woman sitting on their suitcases, arms crossed, looking none too pleased at the large man. A group of young men sat near a desk, the main audience for the man's rant. Santana closed the door behind her, and the noise drew the man's attention.

"Oh Christ! Another one? I thought we sent you all back to Mexico years ago!"

"I was born in Oklahoma," Santana stated as she straightened her shoulders.

A young tan man with a poorly shaved head chuckled at Santana's answer.

"She's got you there Karofsky," he said through his laughter.

"Surprised she can speak English. For fuck's sake, look at them," Karofsky said, gesturing to the women still seated and annoyed across the room.

"When did we start hiring Japs?" Karofsky yelled, pointing to the Asian woman. "Pierce is going to make them loggers? Women can't do what we do. The last 20 proved that," Karofsky huffed.

"We're not those women," the Negro woman answered.

"Go clean a house!" Karofsky snapped back.

Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, but she said nothing more.

"It was 30 women. And she's Korean, not Japanese. And unless you don't want to get your paycheck today, I suggest you mind your own damn business," Mr. Pierce said, from behind Santana.

Karofsky opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Bad haircut man chuckled again.

"We're going to make some adjustments. None of you are training them like the others. So you can pick up your paychecks, enjoy your day off, and get back up to your sites Monday. Dismissed," Mr. Pierce stated, holding a stack of slips in his hand.

The men filed out one by one after picking up their paychecks. Karofsky's eyes narrowed when he passed Santana on his way out the door. Bad haircut man winked at her. Santana stiffened. Mr. Pierce smacked him on the back of his head.

"Save it for town Puck," Mr. Pierce advised.

Once the office door shut, after the last logger left, Mr. Pierce sat on his desk and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. It just made the hair stick up differently, not better.

"Ladies," he began, his face softened. "My name is Alex Pierce and I'm thankful you're here. As you know, the War Department is building ships and planes night and day. They need charcoal for gas masks, and paper. Lots of paper. Sadly, they also need coffins and crosses."

Everyone bowed their heads.

"All those things and more require wood. They're demanding more and more, and I don't have the men to get the logs to this mill and down to Seattle fast enough. I need you. Your country needs you, and I know you're all here because President Roosevelt asked you to do your part. I know he's grateful, as I am."

The women smiled back at him.

"But, it's hard. It's dirty. It's dangerous. I won't sugar coat any of this for you. You will be living in a bunkhouse. In the woods. Felling trees, bucking, swamping, choking and chasing logs. Rain or shine. Ten hours a day. Five, six days a week. You will get hurt, but if you listen to your bosses, you won't get hurt too bad," Mr. Pierce explained.

Santana watched the small brunette swallow, then straightened up.

"Pay is $3.50 a day. Now, let's get your names and go over a few things. You're going to need different clothes for one. Those dresses won't make it five minutes out there," Mr. Pierce smiled.

The women lined up at the desk as Alex Pierce sat behind it and pulled out a ledger.

"Name?" Mr. Pierce asked.

"Quinn Fabray," the blonde answered.

The short brunette and the negro woman looked at her with curiosity, but said nothing.

"Married?"

"No sir," Quinn answered.

"You'll find out pretty quick there aren't any 'sirs' here. Alex or Mr. Pierce or Boss is fine," Mr. Pierce explained.

"Kids?" he asked.

"No sir. Mr. Pierce," Quinn corrected herself.

He paused, then continued to write.

"Next," he continued.

"Rachel Berry. Single. No children," Rachel stated with a clipped efficiency Santana found odd and overly confident.

"Next."

"Tina Chang. Single. No children," she offered softly.

"Did you bring the papers Tina?" Mr. Pierce asked.

Tina pulled out two neatly folded sheets from her purse.

"Thank you. I'll make sure these are kept safe," Mr. Pierce replied.

"Next."

"Mercedes Jones. Single. No kids," she stated plainly.

"Next."

"Santana Lopez. Same," she offered.

Alex continued to write, then closed his ledger and pushed back from the desk. He sat back and looked at the women standing before him.

"Well aren't you a sight," he whispered to himself with a small smile.

"Right," Alex said, standing up. "Let's get you outfitted and up to camp."

Alex Pierce led the women out the door and back down the steps outside to where Santana was dropped off.

"Hey Charlie! Charlie!" Mr. Pierce yelled to a man across the yard. "Where's Brittany?"

"Stables! I think?" Charlie replied.

"Get her down here, would ya?" Alex Pierce yelled back.

Charlie jogged away and the girls stood around in silence, smoothing out their dresses, straightening their hats. Anything to keep themselves occupied and calming their nerves. Santana sat on her suitcase and crossed her ankles. Part of her was relieved. She had a job, and she was determined to keep it. The other part of her was dreading living in the woods with these women. She had never been around so many women at once, or anyone for that matter, in such close quarters. They were going to live together. Work together. Santana started to feel claustrophobic. She had no idea what was to come in five minutes, let alone tomorrow. A big part of her yearned to be back with her father, or back on the docks with the fishermen and the open ocean. What had she gotten herself into? She let out a breath to calm herself, and closed her eyes.

Santana heard the hoof beats first. She looked up and saw the upside down blonde from earlier, right side up, riding a draft horse toward them. Brittany smiled at the group from under her dirty, white, wide brimmed cowboy hat. She wore blue dungarees, leather chaps, men's boots, a cream man's shirt and brown leather work gloves.

"They ready Pop?" Brittany asked, stroking the horse's neck from her saddle.

"They're all yours Brittany," Alex replied.

"Ladies, this is my daughter Brittany. She'll be the one taking care of you. She'll get you outfitted with everything you need, get you up to camp, and help train you. She'll be your lead logger, along with a few men. She knows every job from logging to milling. She can do all of them better than anyone, so you're in good hands," Mr. Pierce explained.

Brittany rolled her eyes at her father's praise.

"Go back to your office Pop. I can take it from here," Brittany said, as she dismounted.

Alex Pierce patted the hat on her head and left to return to the mill. Brittany watched her father walk away. When he was out of earshot, she turned to her new charges.

"Since Karofsky didn't scare you off, I guess that's a good sign," Brittany complimented the group. "He's a bully and an ass, but he's a damn good logger. None of you shied away from him, stood up even, so good for you," Brittany said with a smile.

Santana saw a sincerity and kindness in her face and eyes that she's never seen from someone so blue-eyed and white. It struck her as odd, even though she was comforted by Brittany's words.

"Hope you're ready for the real test," Brittany continued. "I've got to get you ready to kick those boys' asses," Brittany said with a wink. "They think their shit don't stink, but we'll show 'em."

Rachel's eyes widened at Brittany's crass language. Santana smirked.

"Sorry, you'll get used to it. I don't think I've met a sailor, but I'm told we all swear just like them. Welcome to logging!" Brittany said with a big grin.

* * *

Brittany walked her horse and the women around the back of the mill to a clearing near the woods. There, a cargo truck idled. It's bed was open, with wood railings on the side. Crates of supplies were piled up near the cab and more lined the sides of the truck.

"Climb on up!" Brittany said as she gestured to the tailgate.

Rachel tried to put her foot on the edge of the bed, but her legs were too short. Brittany laughed.

"Sorry, let me help you," Brittany offered.

She bent her knees and clasped her gloved hands together, creating a foothold for Rachel to step in.

"It's okay. Hand on my shoulder, hand on the rail, foot in my hands," Brittany explained.

Rachel put her hand on the rail, then Brittany's shoulder, then hesitated to put her foot in Brittany's hands.

"No time to be shy. Come on little one," Brittany encouraged.

Rachel stepped in Brittany's hand and Brittany gave her a generous boost up into the truck. So generous, Rachel stumbled and fell onto a crate. She quickly recovered, and sat down, smoothing her hair as she calmed herself. Brittany laughed at her.

"Well aren't you proper," Brittany teased. "What d'you do before you got here?"

"My father owned a theater in Seattle," Rachel proudly replied.

"Well then you can start _acting_ like a logger. Ain't got time to pretty your hair little one," Brittany replied.

"My _name_ is Rachel Berry," she explained with some impatience.

"Fine by me little one," Brittany smiled.

Rachel huffed. Santana, Tina and Quinn smiled. Mercedes frowned and stepped up to the truck gate.

"Before you start, I don't like nicknames," Mercedes warned.

"Yes ma'am," Brittany said with a mock salute, then bent down to give Mercedes a lift up.

"I'm fine," Mercedes said, then struggled, but succeeded in getting into the back of the truck.

"You didn't tell me your name," Brittany teased.

"Mercedes Jones," she replied, straightening her dress as she sat across from Rachel. Chin held high.

"Mercedes," Brittany mused, rolling the name around her mind. "Ain't that a German name?"

"It's Spanish. Spanish _royalty_," Mercedes explained.

"Okay Princess," Brittany smiled and turned to Tina. Mercedes huffed and rolled her eyes.

"I said," Mercedes corrected.

"I heard ya," Brittany replied.

"I can do it," Tina said, quietly approaching and dismissing Brittany's help. She nimbly hopped up onto the back of the truck and sat near the cab.

Quinn approached the back of the truck.

"Need a hand Miss Fabray?" Brittany asked.

Quinn paused and was about to ask how Brittany knew who she was.

"We get the newspaper," Brittany whispered. "I can read it too," she added solemnly.

Quinn pulled herself up onto the back of the truck with little effort. She held her head high as she sat next to Rachel.

"Are you a princess too?" Brittany asked as Santana approached.

"What? No. I'm not a princess," Santana shyly scoffed.

"You sure? You Suquamish?" Brittany asked.

"Suquam...I don't even know what that is," Santana replied.

"You sorta look Suquamish," Brittany answered, squinting and tilting her head to assess Santana's look. "You look like one of those Indian princesses," Brittany thought out loud.

"Not that I know of, no," Santana replied.

Brittany shrugged, re-clasped her hands and steadied her feet. "What's your name then?"

"Santana. Santana Lopez."

"Saan-tanaah," Brittany drawled out. "Pretty," Brittany smiled and looked up at her.

Santana's mouth opened and her eyes dipped down away from Brittany's stare. She didn't know what to do with a compliment from a white woman, let alone one that acted so unlike any white woman she met. She felt her cheeks warm with blush.

"Come on, up you go," Brittany encouraged, stooping down and bracing her shoulder and ignoring Santana's reaction.

Santana placed her hand hesitantly on Brittany's shoulder. She smelled dirt and hay and leather and soap and sawdust.

Brittany gave Santana a gentle boost up into the back of the truck, and clapped her hands together.

"They all in Brittany?" a man called from the driver's seat of the truck.

"You're good Burt!" Brittany called.

Burt shifted the truck into gear and the girls braced themselves against the lurch. Santana watched as Brittany deftly re-mounted her draft horse and rode alongside them.

As the truck slowly made its way up the narrow logging road that ran parallel to the river feeding the mill pond, Santana looked next to her and gave a small smile and nod to Mercedes.

"Where you from?" Santana asked.

"Alabama originally. But been living in Seattle for the past, oh, nine years now," Mercedes replied.

"Why move?" Santana pressed, genuinely curious.

"I was a housekeeper. My boss moved his business and his house up here, so I moved too," Mercedes explained with a shrug.

"You?"

"Born in Oklahoma, but Dad moved us to California when I was seven," Santana answered.

Mercedes glanced quickly at Quinn, who was staring straight ahead, at nothing. Her eyes darted for a split second at Mercedes, then returned to her far off stare.

"What does your father do in California?" Rachel politely asked.

"He's a doctor," Santana replied with a proud smile. "He's with the Army now, being a doctor in...France I think."

Rachel's eyebrows slightly, trying to suppress her surprise.

"Yes, a _real_ doctor," Santana clarified.

Rachel straightened up defensively. "I wasn't suggesting..."

"You didn't have to say it for me to know it," Santana explained curtly.

Brittany looked ahead and smirked at Santana's response.

"Tina, right?" Rachel asked.

Tina turned a shy questioning look back at Rachel.

"Where are you from? What does your family do?" Rachel inquired.

"My family owned a restaurant in Seattle," Tina replied.

"Oh, I _love_ eating out at restaurants. I'm going to miss it _so_ much, being stuck up here," Rachel complained with a dramatic sigh.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. Santana gave her a light touch with her elbow. Mercedes raised an eyebrow with a sideways glance, then gave her a pursed smile.

"Maybe if we're lucky, Tina will cook for us sometime," Brittany suggested.

Tina's shy smile disappeared behind her draping hair as her gaze dropped to her lap.

"Was that a 'yes' Tina?" Brittany teased.

Tina nodded slightly as she continued to study her lap.

Brittany turned her head and looked forward with a satisfied smile.

The truck turned left, away from the river and into the thickening woods. Gone was the sunshine bouncing off the river currents, and now only scattered light filtered down through the trees. The pine, moss and damp surrounded them. Santana felt like she stepped into a bathroom after someone had taken a long bath or shower, except it was cool. Her skin felt clammy, and saw Mercedes unconsciously wipe down her blouse sleeve. At least it wasn't just her. She found a small comfort in that.

"Not far now!" Brittany called over from atop her horse. "Camp is just over that hill," she said, nodding ahead.

They all stood, grabbing onto the side rails and peeked over the truck cab. Santana saw light from a clearing in the woods. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"How far are we from the mill?" Rachel asked.

"Two miles. Give or take," Brittany replied. "We're not a quarter mile in from the river. We haven't worked much this side. Other side's got the tracks. The guys are _way_ up river."

"How far?" Santana asked.

"Too far to bother you," Brittany assured her with a gentle smile.

Santana pursed her lips, unconvinced.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "If it's Puck you're worried about, he's always like that 'round pretty girls. But he's not going to work for it. A pretty girl has to be within sight for him to do anything 'bout it," Brittany explained. "He's the laziest lout I've ever met," Brittany said with a light chuckle.

Goosebumps ran up Santana's arms. She rubbed them down and looked up at the thick tree canopy with a resigned sigh.

Brittany rode ahead of the truck and over the ridge out of sight. Soon the truck crested the hill and the girls smiled into the sunshine of the small clearing. A long log cabin sat nestled in the tree line to the left of the clearing and a smaller cabin sat to the right. In the middle was an oversized shack with a stove pipe and a porch three times its size attached to the side. Stacks of cut wood lined all three buildings. Santana smiled as the truck slowly eased to a stop in the center of the clearing. Mercedes and Santana pulled the pins holding the gate in place and let it drop with a bang.

"After you," Mercedes offered, miming an overly gracious bow.

Santana chuckled, "No, no, I insist," she replied.

Quinn stood behind them and cleared her throat. Santana and Mercedes immediately stood straight and lost their smiles. Quinn paused a moment to collect or rather correct herself.

"No offense. I just want to get off this damn truck and get settled in," Quinn explained.

"'Course," Mercedes deferred in a agreement.

Santana and Mercedes hopped down onto the ground and Mercedes offered her hand to Quinn, which she accepted. Quinn grabbed her's and Mercedes' suitcases from the edge of the tailgate and set them aside.

"Thanks," Mercedes said with some surprise.

Quinn shrugged and turned to Rachel and Tina standing at the edge of the truck bed. Rachel and Tina handed the rest of the suitcases down to Quinn and Santana. Once Santana and Quinn set them aside, they offered their hands and assisted Rachel and Tina as they disembarked from the truck bed. Tina rubbed her backside.

"Bumpy ride. Me too," Santana said.

Tina's shy smile peeked from under her long hair.

"Where did Brittany go?" Rachel asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

The girls looked around, but didn't see Brittany or her horse. They looked to the front of the truck, and their driver Burt was also missing.

"Great," Rachel huffed with crossed arms.

* * *

Brittany stood just inside the tree line watching the girls help each other out of the truck.

"Well that's a first," Burt remarked as he walked up behind her. "Helping each other already is a good sign."

Brittany smiled and nodded.

"Still worried about Quinn?" Burt asked.

"Nope. She's too determined to mess this up. Girl is going to work. This won't be a problem for her. Rachel on the other hand..."

Burt chuckled. "She's going to be our handful."

"Mmhmm," Brittany agreed. "Mercedes will be mouthy, but she'll do the work. Tina will do the work without saying two words I 'spect."

"And the other one?" Burt asked.

"Santana," Brittany replied.

"Pretty name," Burt smiled.

Brittany nodded. "Haven't figured her out yet."

"Think she can hack it?" Burt asked. "She's awfully little."

"Oh she'll work. Pretty sure of that. Came all the way up from California to work. That takes guts."

"Or nothing to stay home for." Burt replied.

"Means she'll work even harder to stay," Brittany surmised.

"So what's the problem?" Burt asked.

"Don't know if there is one, guess that's the problem," Brittany shook her head and smiled at Burt.

"She bothers you?" Burt teased.

"Don't know if bothered is the right word either, Burt."

"Lucky you got plenty of time to figure her out then, huh?" Burt offered.

"I hope so," Brittany smiled at the thought. "Should we get them settled in?"

"Sure, thing. Marley should be starting lunch soon," Burt replied. "I'll leave the boys to meet them then. They're all yours Brittany," Burt said, as he softly patted Brittany's arm and walked away.

"You're not even going to help? You're a stand up guy Burt," Brittany taunted.

Brittany walked out of the woods and into the clearing to the relief of her new team of loggers.

"We thought we lost you," Rachel complained.

"In these woods? No such thing little one. I grew up in these woods," Brittany assured her. "We have to unload the supplies from the truck. Then lunch, then we'll see if we can't find some proper clothes to fit you."

"My name is Rachel," she huffed.

"Uh huh. Heard you the first time," Brittany said as she pulled two dolly carts off the outside of the truck railing.

She stood there, with the dolly carts, staring at Tina, Mercedes, Quinn, Rachel and Santana.

Brittany sighed and leaned on one of the dolly cart handles. Her eyes met Santana's, then looked to the bed of the truck with a little nod.

"Oh, right," Santana said quietly. "Come on Mercedes, help me start getting the crates," Santana asked gently, then climbed up in the back of the truck again. She turned and helped Mercedes up.

"Tina, you, me and Rachel will take them from here," Quinn directed.

"And Brittany?" Rachel asked.

"I'll make sure you don't break a nail," Brittany teased. "Actually, that's not true. You'll break all your nails and it'll do you some good. And if you're lucky, I'll tell you where to put all of the supplies when you're done unloading them," Brittany said with a smile.

Santana and Mercedes started moving crates to the edge of the truck bed and passing them down to Quinn, Tina and Rachel, who then stacked them onto the carts. Once the two carts were full they looked to Brittany.

"Bunkhouse," she said. "Stack them under the big eaves facing the clearing."

Quinn, Rachel and Tina left Santana and Mercedes to finish sorting and moving the rest of the crates to the edge of the truck bed. Mercedes sat on a crate once they were done and waited for the others to return.

"My hair isn't going to make it five minutes out here," she grumbled, feeling her straightened hair start to frizz.

"Might have to cut it," Santana suggested sympathetically, touching her own hair.

"Child, no," Mercedes scoffed at the idea. "I can do some pretty braids with what I've got."

"Nobody out here to impress Princess," Brittany commented.

"I can still look good," Mercedes replied.

Brittany shrugged. "We'll see how much you care in a week."

Rachel, Tina, Quinn, Santana and Mercedes loaded up the last crates and delivered them to the bunkhouse. They collected their suitcases and Brittany showed them into the cabin and gave a tour of the facilities.

Santana walked into the bunkhouse and was awash in the smell of cedar. It was stark yet warm. A cast iron wood burning stove was the centerpiece of the room. Empty bunk beds were shoved against the far wall. An unmade bed with a jacket and pants pegged on the wall nearby occupied the south corner. Five made beds with pegs and empty shelves above and rough-hewn wood cubby hole storage below lined the east wall. Each had a wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. Oil lamp sconces dotted the walls, and a few wash basins sat in a narrow shelf along the west wall. Windows lined the east wall facing the clearing and sheltered by the deep eaves. One window on the north wall gave a view of the kitchen shack and large porch with long tables and benches. The south wall had one small window, but all Santana could see through it were trees, trees and more trees. Santana smelled the cedar and smiled. It reminded her of her blanket chest back home. She dropped her suitcase on top of the bed nearest the south corner. Mercedes, Tina, Rachel and Quinn dropped their suitcases on the empty bed successively, Quinn ended up nearest the door.

"Welcome home," Brittany greeted the group. "Now that you know where you're sleeping, let me show you where you're washing."

"What are all those bunk beds doing in the corner?" Rachel asked.

"We were using them, then our boys went off to fight, so then the other ladies were going to use them, but they didn't last a week here, and you're just five, so...yep. There they are," Brittany explained. "Follow me."

Brittany opened a narrow door next to the basins. Inside was a shower room with six spigots on the far wall and two large copper bath tubs against the other walls.

"Wait, we're all going to..." Santana couldn't utter the last words, afraid they were true.

"...shower together," Quinn grimaced.

"Oh hell no," Mercedes objected.

"What, you shy Princess?" Brittany asked, challenging Mercedes.

"No," Mercedes balked. "It's not shyness."

"We're just used to a certain amount of modesty, I'm sure" Rachel added.

Brittany started to say something rude, but thought better. She needed to keep these women here, not have them run off like the others. Of course, Karofsky would make any woman want to leave as soon as possible.

"Look," Brittany softened her voice. "I know it's not what you're used to. I know. But this is what we've got. Water goes on, all six spouts go on. We only have so much water heated in that tank. That's it. Trust me, at the end of every day, you're going to be too tired and dirty to even care. Really."

The group seemed unconvinced. Brittany took a breath, and thought a moment.

"Think about it. Actually, don't think about it. It's better not to. Come on, I'll show you the rest," Brittany said, motioning them outside.

Brittany walked them past a three-sided booth of outdoor showers. Santana thought to ask about them, then decided she better not. She didn't want to know. Brittany pointed to the outhouse down a little path that led into the woods, then walked them over to the kitchen cabin. There, a slight, pale girl with long reddish brown hair pulled biscuits out of an old fire stove.

"This is Marley. Marley, this is everyone. Santana, Quinn, Tina, Mercedes and Rachel. They'll be the new crew," Brittany introduced them with a gentle tone.

Marley half smiled and nodded and turned back to her cooking. Brittany invited the girls to sit at the long tables outside next to the kitchen.

"Marley doesn't talk much, or at all, really, so don't be offended if she doesn't speak to you. She doesn't speak to anyone," Brittany whispered.

"Why not?" Rachel asked.

Brittany shrugged, "She never told me."

"What's that cabin for over there?" Mercedes asked, pointing to the smaller cabin directly across the clearing from their bunkhouse.

"Oh that's Burt, Kurt and Blaine's bunkhouse. Burt is Kurt's dad, and he's the foreman out here. Kurt and Blaine volunteered to help me get you ladies on your feet," Brittany explained.

"Why? I thought the men didn't want us here?" Quinn asked.

"Kurt and Blaine aren't like other men. They're nice. You'll like them. So is Burt. He's like a favorite uncle," Brittany smiled.

Marley banged the metal triangle that hung over the front kitchen porch signaling lunch was ready. Santana flinched at the sound.

"When you're out in the woods, you'll be happy it's that loud," Brittany said. "Don't want to miss chow time," she smiled.

Burt, Blaine and Kurt exited their cabin and walked over, smiling and waving. Santana watched as Burt limped alongside Kurt and Blaine. They all doffed their hats, and placed them on the benches next to where they sat.

"Smells great Marley," Burt complimented, as Marley set out platter of grilled salmon, carrots and a basket of biscuits.

"Y'all eat well," Mercedes smiled.

"You need it," Blaine replied. "You'll work up an appetite out there."

Brittany made introductions, Burt led the saying of grace, and they all began their meal. Lunch was full of small talk and Burt describing how the next week was going to work. They would all learn all the tasks, then they'd be chosen for their specific jobs based on how well they did.

"Like auditions," Rachel commented.

"A lot like that, yes," Kurt replied. "We'll teach you everything, and by the end of the week we'll know what you're good at. That way, everyone gets the job they're most comfortable doing. Makes the work go much smoother."

"But first, we need to get you some different clothes," Brittany said.

"First you have to get Marley's supplies to the kitchen," Burt corrected.

"Then we get you fitted," Brittany replied.

"Then you get the rest of the supplies sorted, _then_ you can play dress up," Burt smiled and shoveled the last forkful of food into his mouth.

Brittany rolled her eyes and threw a small piece of carrot across the table, bouncing off of Burt's shirt. Burt picked it up from his lap and popped it in his mouth.

"Better get started, shouldn't you Brittany?" he said with his mouth full.

"Come on girls," Brittany said, getting up from the table. "Dishes go here," Brittany said as she set her plate and cup on a shelf by the side kitchen door. "Let's get this over with before Burt thinks of more work we don't need to do right away," she said with a wink in Burt's direction.

Everyone bussed their dishes then opened and sorted the crates. They stacked the crates for Marley near the kitchen storage shed.

"Why is the shed bolted? It's just us out here," Mercedes asked.

"Oh, the bears like to come by for an easy meal. So we have to make sure they don't think we're providing a free lunch," Brittany explained, stacking the last crate.

"Bears?" Santana asked with a croak in her voice.

"Yeah, but don't worry about them. They want as much to do with you as you do with them. I'll explain all that later," Brittany said with a comforting smile, that did little to comfort Santana or the rest of the group.

The heaviest crates were delivered to a work shed behind the guys' cabin. There, saws, axes, oils and sharpeners lined the walls and filled the workbench.

"I thought loggers used the motorized saws nowadays," Quinn asked.

Brittany turned and gave Quinn an approving smile. "Did your homework? Nice. Well yeah, we have them, but almost all of them are being used by the men at the other camps. They're long logging, so they have all the heavy equipment, the good cranes, the best cables, the railroad track and most of the fuel for the saws. We, on the other hand, have to be a bit old fashioned until the new shipment comes in. Unfortunately, we're not at the top of the delivery list. The War Department is. So it may take awhile."

Brittany walked with the girls back to the bunkhouse and opened a closet door near her bed. She disappeared behind the door and out came pairs of pants, tossed onto the floor. They were the color of sails that hung from the boats where Santana grew up. Next came pairs of boots with studded soles and long-sleeved work shirts and several pairs of denim dungarees.

When Brittany stepped out of the closet, there was a giant pile of clothes on the floor.

"Well, have at it," Brittany said, extending her arms. "Sort 'em out and see what fits, or sort of fits."

Rachel was first to the pile and started laying out clothes over everyone's beds. They each started picking up pants and holding them up to their waists to check the fit.

"When you find something close, try 'em on. You need to be comfortable out there when you're working," Brittany instructed.

Santana sat on her bed and unlaced her shoes. She paired them together and tucked them into the cubby hole storage next to her bed. She found a pair of pants that she wasn't going to completely swim in, and pulled them on under her dress.

"What are they made of?" Tina asked feeling the material.

"Sail cloth," Santana said, pulling at the pant leg. "Oiled sail cloth, right?" she asked looking up at Brittany.

Brittany nodded. "We call them tin pants. If you haven't noticed, it's kind of rainy up here," Brittany teased. "Water runs off these like a duck's back. They're tough too. The underbrush won't tear these like trousers."

Santana buttoned up her pants and they slipped down her slim hips. She grabbed onto them mid thigh.

"So, were you a sailor Santana?" Brittany asked, smirking as Santana tried to hold up her pants. "It's a lost cause. Try another pair," Brittany suggested.

"There aren't anymore. Rachel and Quinn got the last little ones," Santana complained.

Brittany worried her lip between her teeth. "So, sailor?" Brittany asked again.

"What? No," Santana said, stepping out of the pants pooled around her ankles. "Just grew up by the ocean."

"And fixed sails?" Brittany pressed.

"No," Santana said with an exasperated smile at Brittany's persistent questioning. "Fishermen. They let me play on their boats at the dock. I'd go with my Dad when he had calls there. I liked climbing the ropes."

Brittany noticed the wistful look on Santana's face, remembering her childhood and home.

"You miss it," Brittany stated.

Santana shrugged. "It's just different here."

Brittany nodded. "So is it true? Do I swear like a sailor?" Brittany gave her an impish grin.

"You're getting there. Sailors, and fishermen for that matter, are champion swearers," Santana smiled.

"I better work harder at it then," Brittany grinned at the challenge she gave herself.

"That's not very becoming," Rachel said, cuffing her pants. "Nor are these pants. They'll need to be hemmed."

"How 'bout you Quinn? Tina? Mercedes? Find anything to fit?" Brittany asked.

"Pretty close," Quinn replied. "Like Rachel, these need to be hemmed. Maybe some suspenders too," she said, pursing her lips as she checked the extra material gathered at her waist.

"These fit," Tina said with a smile.

"Good for you Tina," Brittany grinned and nodded. "You girls try on some shirts and jackets and boots while you're at it."

"What about me?" Santana asked.

"Dungarees for now. Have a pair?" Brittany asked.

"Yes," Santana replied with a nod.

"I've got another pair of chaps in Burt's work shed. You'll wear those for now. We'll have to order you some tin pants," Brittany explained.

"Chaps? I don't...I've never ridden a horse," Santana nervously confessed. An animal that big always intimidated her. Riding one was even scarier.

Brittany chuckled. "No, no. Sorry, the chaps are to protect your legs. Dungarees are tough, but it's wet and you'll rip your pants easy with all the branches and brush you'll be running into out there."

"See if any of the shirts fit and jackets fit you," Brittany suggested to her team.

The girls all found shirts, boots and jackets that fit well. They clomped around in their cork boots until Brittany stopped them.

"Let's see if we can keep the floor in one piece for awhile. Boots get taken off at the door and put at the end of your bed. You can unpack your personal clothes and things and put them in the footlockers. Hang up your jacket and pants on the pegs by your beds. Gloves and socks in the cubby holes," Brittany ordered.

Rachel set out creams, lotions, toothbrush, toothpaste near one of the basins on the opposite wall.

"There's six of us Rachel and three sinks. Don't take up all the space," Brittany chided.

"But my skin requires..."

"...you to _not_ have _all _of that stuff on the sink. Cubby or footlocker," Brittany replied. "The other women didn't last long enough, but we can make this place a bit more, homey, with the unused bunkbeds. An extra side table and shelves by the sinks maybe?" Brittany offered.

"Who'll build them?" Mercedes asked.

"We will. It's a table and shelves. I'm not asking you to make a rocking chair Princess. We'll do it together," Brittany assured her.

"We're going to learn a lot this week aren't we?" Santana asked.

"You're going to learn a lot for a lot of weeks Santana," Brittany corrected.

The girls spent the afternoon unpacking and settling into their new home. Tina set a small framed picture of her family in front of their restaurant on top of her cubby. Quinn set out her Bible and a book of poetry next to her bed. Mercedes propped up a picture of her with two other women dressed in housekeeper uniforms standing on an elaborate staircase. Rachel placed a picture of her father and another man in front of a theater, alongside a playbill. Santana placed a worn copy of The Odyssey next to her bed, with a soft macrame bookmark tucked inside. Brittany sat on her bed with a book propped on her lap, and watched the girls get settled in. She watched the precision of Rachel folding clothes, the longing look Tina gave to her family photo and little trinkets she placed nearby. How Quinn placed a small box, unopened in her trunk and covered it up with other clothes. How Mercedes broadly smiled at a letter she had retrieved from her pocket book, and how quietly, and quickly Santana organized her few belongings. Everything with her was small movements, as to not draw attention.

A knock at the door drew everyone's attention.

"It's just me," Kurt called.

"Come in Kurt!" Brittany invited.

Kurt entered the bunkhouse and greeted the women with a smile. "How's everyone settling in?"

"Quite well, thank you," Rachel replied.

"Good. Well I'm here for Santana," Kurt announced.

Santana looked up with worry across her face.

"If we're going to get you proper pants I need proper measurements," Kurt explained. "We might have a pair that Brett had before he left. He was a small guy," Kurt said, fidgeting the cloth tape measure in his hands.

Mercedes saw Santana's hand cross over her stomach and grip her side.

"I don't think it's proper for a man to be taking a woman's measurements," Mercedes interjected in Santana's defense.

Brittany scrunched up her nose at Mercedes comment.

"It's Kurt," Brittany replied, as if that's all the information they needed.

"Yes, and Kurt's a man," Quinn replied.

Brittany rolled her eyes and got up with a huff. She gave Santana a friendly 'don't worry' smile. Brittany couldn't tell how uncomfortable Santana was, or if it was just Mercedes and Quinn being over zealous.

"Kurt, let's show them how this works," Brittany said grabbing the tape measure out of Kurt's hands.

Kurt dug in his back pocket and retrieved a small pad of paper and a pencil. Brittany wrapped the tape around her waist and pulled it tight.

"Give yourself some breathing room Brittany," Kurt chuckled. "How many inches?"

"26," Brittany said, her chin pressed into her chest, examining the tape.

"Hips," Kurt replied.

Brittany slung the tape lower and Kurt looked up. He smirked. "Lower Brittany."

The tape slid fully around Brittany's backside and hips. "Better?"

"Much," Kurt smiled as he wrote down the measurement. "Outside leg. Waist to hip."

Kurt crouched down and held the tape nearly taut to the floor and wrote more. "Okay, inseam."

Brittany held the end of the tape inside the top of her thigh and Kurt pulled the bottom of the tape to the inside of her foot, let go and wrote more measurements.

They finished up and Brittany balled up the tape and tossed it to Kurt. "He hardly even touched my foot, so," Brittany turned to Santana. "You okay with this?" she asked with a gentle smile.

Santana nodded with a small smile. "It's just...I've never been fitted for anything before."

"It gets old pretty quickly," Quinn grumbled.

"Oh I _loved_ getting costumes tailored _just_ for me. Quite a thrill to know it's one of a kind _just_ for you and _only_ you," Rachel beamed.

Quinn looked down with a small shake of her head and a smile, and returned to reading a magazine.

Kurt gave Santana a sympathetic smile. "Won't hurt a bit. Promise."

Kurt took Santana's measurements under the watchful eyes of everyone but Quinn.

"Gosh you're tiny. I'll see what we can do with Brett's old pants. You ladies need anything to hem your pants with?" Kurt asked, turning to the group. "We have some kits in the shed, I'll bring you," Kurt offered.

"Thank you, Kurt," Santana said, handing back the tape measure.

"You're welcome Santana. We'll see what we can do for you," Kurt replied.

That night, after they turned out the lights, and everyone was asleep, Santana laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She heard the whisper of wind through the pines, thanks to Brittany cracking the window next to her bed. She heard Mercedes' gentle snoring and Rachel's even louder snores. Over the sounds of deep sleep breaths and the rustle of bed covers, the river rushed in the distance. It reminded Santana of the ocean waves she could hear from her old bedroom in her small coastal home in California. Despite that comforting sound, sleep eluded her. After a long day of travel, meeting everyone and getting settled in, her body was exhausted but her mind raced. The snores she heard weren't her father's in the next room. She tried to remind herself that this was a good thing. She had a job, a place to live, and seemingly very nice people who would show her the way, and even pay her. Maybe it was the newness. Maybe it was the fact that never in her 20 years of life had she ever spent that much time or conversation with white women. Or any women for that matter. Santana tried to figure out what their ulterior motives might be, but she couldn't come up with anything. They were all in the same boat. For whatever reason, everyone accept Brittany, ended up at Pierce's Lumber as the last resort. And despite the fact that none of them seemed to have made logging their first, or tenth choice, they were there and they were just...nice. It unsettled Santana more than comforted her. The company she was now forced to keep, was not of her choosing. These women, the men, the woods, the mountains were all strange and that night she couldn't imagine getting used to it. The bunkhouse started to feel like a prison sentence instead of an opportunity.

Santana tossed the covers back and sat up. She pulled on her dungarees under her nightgown and slipped on her shoes and her new logger jacket. She grabbed a lantern and matches from near the door and slipped out into the night. She let out a few cleansing breaths and inhaled the damp piney air. She lit the lantern and looked to the tree line. Her footsteps muffled as she walked on the carpet of pine needles into the woods. She followed the path that led toward the outhouse, but took the right fork and discovered a clearing near a stream. Across the small clearing she saw the stalls where Brittany's horse was stabled.

"So that's where you went," Santana said to herself.

Santana sat at the stream edge, relieved. Leaving the bunkhouse and her new coworkers lifted a little invisible weight off her shoulders. Growing up, it was always just her and her father. A few schoolmates she was occasionally friendly with, and the men down at the docks, but she was never forced to be around this many people. She never felt as stuck as she did in that bunkhouse. At least out there by the stream, even if she was still in the woods, she had some time to herself. Some space.

Santana listened to the water gurgle in the stream, and the wind whisper through the tops of the pines. She hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. She closed her eyes and smiled. Now she felt tired, because she felt a little free.

A twig snapped behind her, and startled Santana out of her daze. She turned her head to see a lantern light approaching her.

"I was getting worried about you," Brittany said quietly. "Are you okay? Are you sick?" she asked, finally arriving where Santana sat.

Santana shook her head. "I'm fine. Couldn't sleep."

Brittany sat down next to her. Half her face and hair lit in the soft light of the lantern. Santana noticed the worry in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," Santana apologized.

Brittany shook her head. "It's okay. Just glad you're safe. One of the other girls, a few weeks back, got lost in the woods at night. Took us until the next morning to find her. She was scared out of her mind. The guys thought it was a great joke. Thought it would teach her a lesson. She left the next day. Refused to come back. Most of the other girls left with her," Brittany explained, frowning.

"I'm not leaving," Santana replied. "You're stuck with me," Santana said, returning her chin to her knees.

"I don't know you well enough to be stuck with you," Brittany replied. "Sometimes you're shy, sometimes you're friendly, sometimes you're...curt."

"I'm sorry I snapped at Rachel on the truck," Santana apologized and picked at her dungarees.

"Don't apologize for sticking up for yourself, or your family," Brittany replied.

Santana nodded through a small smile and a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Brittany asked with a bemused look on her face.

"You. I mean, I've never met a white woman who would say more than two words to me, but you," Santana shook her head. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Brittany sat quietly for a few moments before she responded.

"All my life, well a lot of my life, people assumed all sorts of things about me. Without getting to know me. I didn't like it. So I try not to do it to anyone else," Brittany confessed.

Santana knew exactly how Brittany felt, but never thought she'd hear those words come from someone so blonde.

"Not even someone who looks like me?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. "Not like you, or Mercedes, or Tina _or_ Quinn or Rachel. Besides, I like the way you look," Brittany complimented.

Santana bit her bottom lip to hide her smile and stared harder into the night, away from Brittany. She didn't know what to do with Brittany's compliment, let alone respond to it. It made her feel good, but uncomfortable, and Santana wasn't sure it was all because Brittany wasn't acting like Santana thought she would, or should.

Brittany just smiled at Santana's shyness. "Come on, we should get back inside. It's really not safe to be sitting out here in the middle of the night," Brittany suggested.

"Why? Bears?" Santana asked.

Brittany stood up and offered her hand to pull Santana up. Santana hesitated, then placed her hand in Brittany's warm, strong grip and was pulled to her feet.

"Nah, you can hear bears coming, and make noise to scare them off. Pumas on the other hand. If you hear them, they're on top of you, and that's the last thing you want," Brittany explained with a nonchalance that chilled Santana more than comforted.

Brittany held onto Santana's hand as she led Santana back up the path toward the bunkhouse.

"Let me know if you can't sleep again. I can show you safer places to get away from everyone."

"It's not the others," Santana quickly corrected.

Brittany looked sideways at Santana with a smirk, but said nothing more. They extinguished their lanterns outside the bunkhouse and crept inside. Everyone still slept. To Santana's chagrin, Mercedes and Rachel still snored.

"G'night," Brittany whispered as she slipped into the bed next to Santana's and turned to face her.

"Night," Santana replied.

She turned her back to Brittany and soon fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Surprise, surprise, you didn't have to wait a month! I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing. The initial response has been lovely. The questions have been great, and gosh, y'all are just so nice and polite. You're precious unicorns. All of you.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

Santana heard the door shut, and opened her eyes enough to see the morning light was just a hint of a suggestion through the windows. She followed the quiet pad of bare feet across the room, the creak of the bed next to her settling under the returning weight, and then the smell of coffee hit her nose.

"Mornin'," Brittany whispered as she sipped coffee from her metal mug.

Santana's sleepy eyes broke free from the tug of sleep and opened fully. She grunted. In her head she said "Good morning". Her mouth said "Hmmph". Brittany smiled.

"Marley's got a fresh pot of coffee on," Brittany whispered. "Do you drink coffee?"

Santana managed a nod. Sleep still pulling at her to stay in bed. The next thing she knew, a tin cup of black coffee sat on her nightstand, next to her head. Santana's eyes opened again.

"You brought me coffee?" Santana asked in tired wonderment. Her voice scratchy with sleep and confusion.

No one's ever done that for her before. Her father never did. Brittany shrugged and continued to sip her coffee in bed. Santana sat up, rested on one arm and sipped her coffee.

"You put sugar in it," Santana whispered, looking into her mug.

She looked over at Brittany, who again sipped and shrugged at her.

"Breakfast is ready," Brittany said. "Better get our bunkmates up."

"It's early," Santana complained, for her sleeping roommates, as well as herself.

"It's late. Six is an hour later than when you have to get up for work," Brittany explained, slipping her dungarees on over her long underwear.

"You're wearing men's underwear," Santana curiously observed.

"It's what loggers wear. I'm a logger," Brittany explained, standing up and buttoning her pants. "Get dressed. If we're lucky, the boys haven't eaten all the flapjacks. Marley makes them extra fluffy on Sundays," Brittany grinned.

Santana looked over at the others still sleeping. She turned back to Brittany with a concerned look. She felt bad leaving them out.

"Promise, there will be plenty left. Marley's used to cooking for a dozen men. I don't think she's adjusted to just six women yet," Brittany explained. "Besides, she'll bang the chow bell when it's ready for everyone."

Santana still hesitated. Brittany sighed and gave Santana a sympathetic smile.

"Come on. You're too little to eat everyone else's helpings anyway," Brittany teased.

Santana got up and pulled on her discarded dungarees from last night under her nightgown. She pulled on her socks and shoes, grabbed her bra, camisole, and a work shirt off the peg. Brittany turned her head to give Santana some privacy. Santana turned her back to Brittany and quickly pulled off her nightgown and put on her bra, the camisole, and slipped her arms through her work shirt. Brittany did chance a peek. Her curiosity always got the better of her. Santana's bare back was as she imagined. Smooth, lighter tan than her arms. Thinly muscled. Santana turned back towards Brittany as she buttoned up the last few buttons. Santana gave her a little sideways glance. She wasn't sure how to act. She never had to dress in front of anyone before. Were there rules? Brittany handed Santana a jacket.

"It's chilly this morning," Brittany said, when she pulled it from Santana's peg.

Santana followed Brittany silently out the door and walked over to the kitchen tables. Three sets of used plates and mugs were already on the dirty dishes table. The mist hung heavy around the camp, giving it an ethereal look. Santana watched as a doe and her fawn ate from the forest floor 50 yards away.

"Have you seen 'Bambi'?" Santana asked, still looking at the deer.

Brittany shook her head. "It's twenty miles to the nearest theater. In town, there's just a bar, a general store, a cafe, a post office, and a mechanic. Not much else really."

"Was there a school at least?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded. "They closed it when I was 16. Most kids had to work to help support their families. The war is the first time we're seeing money come back to these parts. It was hard for most folks for a long time."

Santana nodded. "It was bad everywhere."

Marley came out of the kitchen and placed a pot of coffee in the middle of the table between Brittany and Santana and quickly returned to her cooking.

"Thank you," Santana said with a sleepy smile after Marley was gone.

Santana refilled their coffee mugs as Brittany went inside the kitchen. She returned with a tin of sugar and a bottle of syrup. Marley followed behind with a plate of flapjacks and a plate of bacon. She retreated to the kitchen door, and watched Santana and Brittany serve themselves. Marley waited, sipping apple juice, until Santana and Brittany were halfway through their breakfast plates, then Marley walked to the front kitchen porch.

"Cover your ears," Brittany suggested.

"What?" Santana asked, as she put a slice of bacon in her mouth.

The clang of the chow bell startled Santana enough to nearly choke on her food.

Brittany chuckled and stuck a forkful of flapjacks in her mouth. "Told you," she said with her mouth full.

"She must really like you," Santana said.

"Who?" Brittany asked with a mouthful of food.

"Marley. She waited until you were eating, before she called the others," Santana observed.

Brittany's brow furrowed in thought, then shrugged. "I'm nice to her. She's a nice kid."

"You're nice to everybody," Santana replied.

"Not everybody," Brittany replied.

A few minutes later, Tina emerged from the bunkhouse, shyly smiling as she rubbed her eyes.

"Everyone else coming?" Brittany asked as Tina sat down.

"Yes. Mercedes and Quinn should be right behind me. Rachel is still washing her face, or applying a second skin cream," Tina remarked quietly. "I'm not sure."

Brittany smirked and nodded at Tina's comment.

Quinn arrived with Mercedes close behind her. Quinn greeted everyone politely and sat down. Mercedes slumped down on the bench next to Santana.

"I've gotten up before dawn for most of my working life, but Lord Jesus couldn't get me out of bed this morning if he tried," Mercedes complained.

Brittany poured her a cup of coffee. "I'm pretty sure Jesus would've let you sleep in."

Mercedes's face frowned over her coffee cup as she drank and considered Brittany's comment.

Rachel opened the bunkhouse door and stepped out like she was making a grand stage entrance. Santana finished her last bite food and looked at Rachel's beaming face approaching the group.

"Who's that happy in the morning?" Santana grumbled.

Mercedes and Tina stifled their chuckles. Rachel sat down and Quinn passed her the flapjacks.

"Good morning everyone!" Rachel greeted. "Sleep well?" she asked, looking around the table. Everyone politely smiled and nodded. "Oh good. So, Brittany, what are we doing today?"

Brittany put down her coffee cup and folded her arms on the table.

"Good question Rachel," Brittany replied. "Sunday is usually a day off. We go into town, or work on projects around camp, or play cards. Relax really. But, since we have a few chores to take care of, I thought we'd start on those table and shelves so we can make the bunkhouse a little more comfortable for all of you. We'll be done before lunch, so the rest of the afternoon is yours to do what you like. We won't be going into town this week though, so don't get your heart set on that."

Rachel's attitude deflated slightly. She tried to cover up her disappointment by eating more flapjacks.

After breakfast, the girls started pulling apart one of the bunkbeds. Brittany brought over a hammer, saw, and tape measure from the work shed. They took the slats that held the mattress and made shelves. They took the supporting rails at the head and feet of the bunkbeds for table legs and used more slats for the table top. By the time the lunch bell rang, they were sweeping up sawdust and Rachel was arranging her lotions and creams on the new table.

At lunch Blaine and Kurt announced that they were headed into town and offered a ride to anyone who wanted. Brittany politely declined their offer for everyone, but said they might go next weekend. Mercedes and Tina looked relieved. Rachel and Quinn both tried to hide their sulking. Santana, on the other hand, Brittany couldn't tell how she felt about town or staying at the logging camp. She just drank her juice and didn't react. Like the conversation didn't even happen.

The girls bussed their dishes and walked back to the bunkhouse. Marley grabbed Brittany before she left and handed her a wall calendar.

"You think the bunkhouse needs a calendar?" Brittany asked.

Marley shook her head, flipped to June, and pointed that Brittany's birthday was circled and her name written in.

"Oh! Good idea! But you sure you want to make a birthday cake for everyone?"

Marley smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I like having girls here too. Beat all those smelly boys, right?" Brittany laughed.

Marley crinkled up her nose and nodded in agreement.

* * *

Brittany walked into the bunkhouse, and saw Mercedes and Rachel arguing about shelf space. Quinn, Tina and Santana were arranging their items on the shelves, trying to stay out of the argument, but Brittany could tell Quinn was losing her patience. Brittany walked in between Mercedes and Rachel and gave them both a little shove to part them.

"You did _not_ just push me," Mercedes said appalled.

"I did and I'll do it again if you don't stop acting like this. New rule!" Brittany announced to the group. "Everyone gets five items for the shelves and table. Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and two other items of your choosing."

Rachel stood indignant, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"But we have more space for stuff other than that," Quinn retorted.

"We do, but since Rachel and Mercedes can't play nice with what we got, we all pay the price. In this bunkhouse and out there on the job, we all work together. If we don't, someone gets hurt. So it starts in here. I don't need you all to be best pals. I need you to get along and respect each other. You'll do that on the job, and you'll do that here. Got it?"

"Got it," they all replied.

"Now that's cleared up, when's your birthdays?" Brittany asked opening up Marley's calendar.

"July 4th," Quinn replied.

"A regular Yankee Doodle Dandy, eh Quinn?" Brittany remarked with a big grin.

"All-American girl," Quinn replied dryly with a small smile.

"February 15th," Tina replied.

"So close to Valentine's. How romantic," Brittany winked.

"September 10th," Mercedes replied.

"September 21st," Rachel replied.

"It was Friday," Santana replied quietly.

Brittany wrote Santana's name down on May 16th.

"Happy Birthday," Brittany said with a wide smile.

"Thanks," Santana said with a smile.

Brittany left with the updated calendar and the girls each chose their beds to relax. Tina, Mercedes and Rachel wrote letters. Quinn opened her bible and read. Santana looked at her copy of The Odyssey, but had no desire to open it. She watched the others write and caught Quinn's eye looking at her over her book. Santana gave her a small smile, but Quinn returned her eyes to the page before she could see. Santana gave herself a mental kick for the missed opportunity. She wasn't sure what that opportunity was, but she had a sense there was more to Quinn than her blonde hair and green eyes and pretty clothes. The others seemed to know something about Quinn that Santana didn't, and that made Santana uneasy.

She looked over at everyone else, engaged in writing or reading and sighed. She didn't want to write her father today. What would she tell him? So far, all she knew was that she was in the woods with women she didn't know, with a job she didn't know. It was all strange and uncomfortable. Santana decided she would write him next week. She could at least tell him about work then, not the white women who didn't act like white women, or the damp chill that never eased, or how lost she really felt. These fits and starts of comfort and discomfort unsettled her more than anything. Everyone was nice, but that was odd. She felt comfortable with Brittany, but out of sorts at the same time. She would write her father next week, and confine the letter's contents to work, she decided. Work was the best thing to concentrate on. It was the only thing that, hopefully, would make sense.

Brittany threw open the bunkhouse bang against the wall startled everyone, including Brittany.

"Whoops!" she said with an apologetic smile. "I was supposed to tell you about bears," Brittany announced.

Worry painted over her charges' faces.

"We're going for a walk. Come on, let's go," Brittany said as she stood at the open door.

"I thought we were relaxing," Mercedes replied.

"This _will_ be relaxing Princess," Brittany said. "And hopefully educational," she smiled.

The six women filed out of the bunkhouse and walked a small path into the woods behind the men's cabin.

"We'll be working over there tomorrow morning," Brittany pointed out. "We're going to clear this area down to the river, then work our way back up the hill and up river."

Santana surveyed the dense evergreen forest before her. That was a lot of trees.

"So, animals and safety," Brittany began. "I'm pretty sure you're all city gals right?" Brittany asked.

They all nodded.

"Right. So out here, we've moved in where others have already made a home. Kind of like getting new neighbors, but no one told you the house was even up for sale," Brittany explained. "So first thing to learn is respect. We're in their home, even though my father owns all this land."

"Second, they're more scared of you, than you are of them. For the _most_ part," Brittany emphasized. "Bears will smell you before they hear you and they're not going to like what they smell, no matter how nice your perfume is," Brittany said. "So they'll run away or be up a tree before you even know they're there."

Brittany watched as the group seemed to relax a little. "We're going to be making a lot of noise, so you shouldn't see many animals while we're working. Maybe first thing in the morning, as we're getting in, but that's about it. Where you have to watch is at night."

"We don't work at night, do we?" Tina asked.

Brittany smiled. "No Tina, we don't, but you might need to use the outhouse, right? Or sleepwalk? Or just be up late, or early and on your own outside."

"I don't plan on being outside at night on my own," Mercedes replied.

"Good plan, but shit happens. So, here's the rules: First, you _will_ always bring a lantern. Second, you will _never_ stray from the path to and from the outhouse," Brittany said, looking over at Santana. Santana bowed her head and scuffed her toe. Quinn took notice.

"Wait, what are we avoiding at night?" Rachel asked.

"Pumas. Also known as cougars, also known as mountain lions, also known as big cats you don't see or hear coming," Brittany explained.

"How big is big?" Quinn asked.

"Six feet, more than a hundred pounds and if you see one, it's usually too late," Brittany clarified.

"Too late for what?" Tina asked.

"To do anything," Brittany replied.

"So, besides praying we don't run into one, can we do anything?" Quinn asked.

"Not really, but if you _do_ run into one, or a bear, _don't_ run. _Don't_ crouch down. It's the first two things you'll want to do, and it's the _last_ things you'll ever do. You _will _yell and make lots of noise. You _will_ stand tall with your arms out making yourself look as big and scary as possible," Brittany explained.

She looked at Rachel's wide eyes and her small frame. "Yes, even you Rachel. You can certainly be loud."

"And then what? It just, runs away?" Mercedes asked, unconvinced.

"All predators like easy prey. If you don't look easy, it'll give up," Brittany said.

"And if it doesn't?" Santana asked.

"All that noise you make should wake us all up. We'll come running and it'll definitely be scared," Brittany said with a comforting smile.

"Look, I'm not telling you this to scare you. Well, actually I am. A _little_. But it's so you're on your toes. We probably won't see anything. Once we start logging, the animals usually move on. They don't want to be around us. But you just never know, so I want you to be prepared, okay?"

The group nodded.

Brittany smiled. "Great."

They continued their small tour of the woods around the logging camp and down by the river. Quinn stood apart from the others, watching the river currents dodge rocks and jump over fallen logs.

"Pretty isn't it?" Brittany asked quietly, barely audible over the rush of the water.

Quinn nodded. "Peaceful."

"I'm glad you think so," Brittany said, and left to gather with the others. Mercedes, Tina and Rachel were debating the best way to cook salmon and Santana sat on a large flat rock that jutted out over the river bank. Brittany stood behind her.

"You okay?" Brittany gently asked.

Santana turned around and looked up, surprised by Brittany's silent approach. She nodded, and turned back to look at the river. "Just a lot of...new. Stuff," Santana said.

"A little overwhelming, huh?" Brittany asked, trying to figure out what Santana was looking at in the river, or across it, if anything.

Santana shrugged.

Brittany smiled and pulled her lips into her mouth. She looked down at the back of Santana and shook her head.

As the group walked back to camp, Brittany gave them another overview of their workday and week. She knew it was a lot for them to take in, but the sense she got from the silence of the group as they walked, was that they were listening. They were all listening, and taking it in, as best they could.

* * *

After the dinner plates were cleared, Kurt and Blaine went back to their cabin and Burt went to check the equipment they would need the next morning. Brittany left the table and followed Burt to the workshed.

"We ready for tomorrow?" Brittany asked as she poked her head in the door.

Burt was checking the saw blades and axes. He nodded. "Just double checking, but looks good. You showed them where we were starting?"

"Yep. Gave them a little tour. I'm opening that crate of Rainier tonight for them. Just so you know," Brittany said with a mischievous grin.

Burt rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't want them hung over their first day on the job."

"It'll just be a few beers each. Nothing crazy. They need to relax. Plus, it was Santana's birthday Friday, so we're celebrating," Brittany explained.

"Tell her Happy Birthday for me, and Brittany, don't go overboard tonight," Burt warned.

Brittany walked inside and gave Burt a hug. "Don't worry Burt, they'll be good as new tomorrow morning. They just need a little fun tonight, that's all."

Brittany returned to the dinner table with a crate. She deposited it in the middle of the group. The contents clinked as the glass bumped from the motion.

"You got us Coke's?" Santana asked.

"Better!" Brittany replied, then pulled a carton of Lucky Strike cigarettes from the back of her pants and slapped it on top of the crate.

"Booze? Smokes? What's the occasion?" Quinn asked, eyeing the cigarettes with a delighted smile.

Marley emerged smiling from the kitchen carrying a simple white cake, with a thin layer of icing on top.

"Happy Birthday Santana!" Brittany announced.

Santana's eyes widened and her jawed dropped. The others clapped and sang "Happy Birthday." Santana covered her face with embarrassment.

"Make a wish!" Mercedes demanded.

Santana uncovered her face, her cheeks flushed with the attention, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and focused on her wish. She opened them and took a deep breath to blow the candle out, then coughed.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. We didn't have any candles. But you get the first piece," Brittany said, as Marley cut into the cake.

Marley cut pieces of cake and passed them around the table. Brittany tossed the cigarettes to Quinn, who immediately opened the carton, took out a cigarette pack, opened that up, and had a lit cigarette in her mouth before anyone knew what happened.

"Thank _god_," she whispered, with an exhale of smoke.

Brittany pried open the crate of beer, popped off six bottle caps and passed them around. Quinn tossed the pack of cigarettes on the table, and everyone but Rachel lit a cigarette and everyone but Santana drank their beer as they finished their cake. Santana looked over at Marley, who had retreated to the kitchen door. She leaned against the doorframe, sipping a bottle of Coca Cola, and watched the girls relax with beer and cigarettes. Marley caught Santana watching her, and her soda. Marley raised her bottle and her eyebrows to Santana. Santana smiled, nodded and met Marley in the kitchen. Brittany left the table and stood near the kitchen door, hidden from view of Santana. Marley uncapped the Coke bottle and handed it to Santana.

"Thank you," Santana said.

Marley smiled and nodded.

"Do you like it here?" Santana asked.

Marley nodded again.

"How long have you been here?" Santana asked.

Marley held up two fingers.

"Two _years_? Yes?"

Marley nodded.

"So you must like it here," Santana surmised.

Marley nodded.

"You grow up around here?"

Marley shrugged.

"Blaine and Kurt seem nice, and Burt," Santana commented.

Marley agreed.

"Brittany's really nice as well, don't you think?"

Marley beamed and nodded emphatically. Santana giggled. "Gosh you're sweet on her."

Marley just looked down at her feet.

"Well she told me you were very nice, so I think the feeling is mutual," Santana assured her. "Thanks for the Coke, but I should head back now," Santana said.

Marley looked up and gave Santana a grateful smile.

Brittany quickly rejoined the group so Santana was unaware of her eavesdropping.

"You don't drink?" Mercedes asked Santana, as she appeared with her Coke in hand.

Santana shook her head, "Not really, no."

"More for us then," Quinn grinned as she took another swig from her beer bottle.

Brittany pulled out another pack of cigarettes from the carton and handed them to Santana.

"If you're not going to drink, you might as well relax with these," Brittany smiled.

Santana thanked her and pulled a cigarette out of the pack. Brittany flicked her lighter open and Santana leaned over and lit her cigarette.

"Thank you," she said with an exhale of smoke.

Brittany nodded and slipped the lighter back in her pants pocket. "So you don't like beer?" Brittany asked as she took another swig from her bottle.

Santana shook her head. "Tastes okay, just don't like how it makes me feel."

"Huh," Brittany replied, trying to imagine disliking the numb, happy high of a little too much alcohol.

"I prefer wine, myself," Rachel added, in an effort to make Santana feel better about not wanting beer.

Tina nodded in agreement with Rachel. Mercedes swallowed her beer, set her empty bottle on the table.

"I'm not that particular. If it tastes good, and smooths out all the rough edges, I'll drink it," Mercedes said with a proud smile.

Brittany raised her beer bottle to Mercedes, "Here here!"

"I'll drink to that," Quinn said, and took a couple gulps of beer.

"This might be a good time to remind you that we get up at five tomorrow," Brittany grinned. "So no hangovers, okay? Relax, have fun tonight, but if you're not 100% tomorrow, you're not working. No one's losing a limb on my watch."

That night, the girls learned more about Rachel and her father's theater. Mostly it was Rachel telling them of every performance she ever participated in since she was five years old. Santana learned of Mercedes days in her church choir, and her stunning voice. Tina promised to cook for them soon. Santana listened as the group told of their dating exploits. Their stories were filled with bad kisses and awkward moments of their father's embarrassing their dates. Santana didn't offer up any stories, and the others didn't seem to notice. The evening was full of beers and cigarettes and giggles over "worst kiss" and "worst date". It was 8:30pm when the lights in the bunkhouse turned on. Santana looked over at Brittany.

"Marley. She takes care of the camp, not just the cooking. She's getting it ready for us. Lights on, water heated, wood chopped. She does laundry on Saturdays too," Brittany explained.

"That's a lot for one little girl," Santana replied.

"You'd be surprised at what she can handle," Brittany said looking at the now-illuminated bunkhouse.

Brittany turned to the rest of the group and interrupted an intense debate on the merits of red versus white wine.

"Ladies, it's time to pack it in," Brittany announced. "Early start."

Brittany slid off the table top and brushed a hand down her backside. Quinn chugged the last of her beer. Rachel let out a sigh. Mercedes, Tina and Santana began cleaning up. Brittany eyed Rachel and Quinn.

"What?" Rachel asked, then saw the others tidying up. "Oh, right," Rachel said and got up to help.

Brittany nudged Quinn's shoulder.

"It's almost all done anyway," Quinn said under her breath.

"Make the effort," Brittany stated with a stronger shove.

Quinn sat still for a moment, annoyed, then got up and cleared her bottles without another word.

* * *

Tina, Rachel, Quinn and Mercedes started a discussion about cooking and meals in the kitchen as they cleaned up. Santana bussed her dishes and didn't feel engaged in the "proper way to dress a chicken" as Mercedes and Tina were.

"I'm going to head in," Santana said as she excused herself from the group and walked to the bunkhouse.

Santana opened the bunkhouse door just as Brittany was pulling a man's sleeveless undershirt over her head.

"God I'm sorry!" Santana said as she averted her eyes.

She heard Brittany giggle.

"What are you sorry for?" Brittany asked with a laugh in her voice.

"For walking in on you while you were...you were..." Santana searched for words other than "half naked".

"Getting changed? Jesus Santana lighten up. You can look now. I'm all covered up to save your sensitive eyes," Brittany teased.

Santana slowly looked over at Brittany. She felt the lecture coming, and she didn't like that feeling.

"You going to get changed?" Brittany asked.

Santana nodded.

"You going to be able to handle me being in here with you?" Brittany asked with a smirk.

Santana didn't answer.

"You didn't have a problem the first night when all of us got ready for bed, or this morning" Brittany pressed. "Santana, we live together. You're going to see me and everyone else buck naked, so you might as well get used to it now," Brittany explained. "So what's different tonight?"

"I guess, because it's just you?" Santana said, but she wasn't sure. "When everyone was getting changed, they were all distracted. If it's just one other person..."

Brittany sighed and sat on her bed facing Santana. Santana was standing at her own bed, worrying her nightgown between her fingers. She watched the cotton feed through her thumb and index finger.

"Well I'll make chicken next week and Tina can make it after that and _then_ we'll decide," Mercedes exclaimed, as she opened the bunkhouse door.

Santana startled at their boisterous entrance. Brittany just closed her eyes and shook her head. Santana changed into her nightgown when the others did. Brittany just sat there in cut off long johns and her tank top, watching, but not watching. Santana was so efficient in her undressing and dressing, there was hardly a patch of skin to see.

"You're a sight," Quinn joked, looking at Brittany's sleepwear.

"What? It's comfortable," Brittany said, pulling at the material gathered at her stomach.

"You don't have a nightgown?" Rachel asked, brushing her hair at the sink.

"Sure. At the house," Brittany replied. "But I'm logging. So," Brittany shrugged.

"You have a house? All this time I thought you just lived out here or at the mill," Mercedes teased.

"Making up stories about me already? Shit, I thought it would take at _least_ a week," Brittany joked.

Brittany extinguished the lamp and wished everyone a good night.

"Get some rest. Big day tomorrow," she added.

Santana heard Brittany's sheets rustle and her bed creak as she got into bed. The others were fast asleep, deep slow breaths and snores were the order, again, that night. Santana listened for the rush of the river, and the wind through the pines, searching for that comforting sound that would lull her into dreamland, but it didn't work. She tossed, turned and huffed in frustration.

"I have no idea how the others can sleep with all that racket you're making," Brittany whispered.

"Sorry," Santana whispered back. "Can't sleep."

"I know," Brittany replied.

Santana turned on her side to face Brittany, who was watching her from her bed. Santana could see the faint outline of Brittany's body turned toward her.

"Sorry," Santana apologized again.

Brittany let out a sigh. "Come on, put some pants on," Brittany said.

She threw back the covers and put on pants and a shirt over her sleep shirt and shorts.

"Where are we going?" Santana whispered as she sat up and pulled on pants.

"Out," Brittany said, standing over Santana.

"But cougars," Santana protested.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine, come on," Brittany assured her and offered her hand to ease Santana off her bed.

Brittany led Santana outside and around their cabin to the side next to Brittany's bed. There, hidden under the pine, leaning on the porch roof eave, was a wooden ladder. Brittany began to climb.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" she asked over her shoulder.

Santana shook her head and began to follow Brittany up.

"Good. Well at least that's _one _thing you're not shy about," Brittany replied.

Santana paused. It was going to be a continuation of their "naked conversation" as Santana dubbed it in her mind. Great. Santana climbed the rest of the ladder and crawled onto the cedar porch roof, next to Brittany.

"Since you seem to get all out of sorts with everyone else around, figured this might do you some good," Brittany explained. "And it's safer up here than by the stream out near the clearing, so if you need to get away, get up here."

"Thank you," Santana replied.

Brittany leaned back on her hands and stretched out her long legs. Santana hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"So," Brittany began.

"So?" Santana asked.

"So let's talk about life here at the logging camp. We eat together, sleep together, work together, wash together. That is not going to change. Good crews get along. Great crews take care of each other. Too many loggers have died, because their bunkmates didn't give two shits about them. So we do everything together. It's like a little family. We might not like each other all of the time, but we damn well look out for each other," Brittany explained. "So, I'm sorry, but there's no escaping stuff like changing clothes and washing up," she added with a little more care.

Santana sighed and bit her lip in nervous thought.

"Can I ask you something if you promise not to laugh?" Santana asked.

"Sure," Brittany replied with a curious smile.

Santana took a deep breath. "Are there rules?"

"For what?"

"For...I've never had to change in front of anyone, or shower. So I don't know..."

"Oh! Wait, how have you never changed in front of anyone? Ever? You must have in gym class or your mother or, sleepovers?" Brittany reasoned.

Santana shook her head. "No phys ed at my school, and my mother died when I was born, so it's just been me and my dad ever since, and, well, no sleepovers," Santana sighed.

"But you had friends, right?" Brittany asked, concerned.

Santana nodded and shrugged, "Yeah, I mean, I spent time with kids at school, and sometimes study group. But if I wasn't doing schoolwork, I was helping my dad, so..."

"I'm so sorry," Brittany said.

Santana stiffened. "I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm looking for information," Santana impatiently replied.

"Right. Sure. Ahem. _The Rules of Being Naked Around Other People_, by Brittany S. Pierce," she said in a mock official voice.

"You promised not to laugh," Santana sighed, on hand over her face.

"I'm not laughing. I never promised not to have fun with it though," Brittany winked.

Santana gave her an exasperated, yet pleading look.

Brittany acquiesced. "It's simple. You mind your own business when you get dressed or undressed. Pick a spot on the wall or wherever," Brittany explained.

"That's it?" Santana asked.

"Yeah, it's not surgery. Get showered. Get dressed. Mind your own business," Brittany shrugged. "The only secret, that's not a secret, but no one will admit to, is that even though you're not supposed to look, everyone does," Brittany said with a nudge to Santana's shoulder.

"Wait, what?" Santana asked.

"Everyone looks. Just don't stare, and don't get caught," Brittany clarified. "Everyone's going to look a little. Curiosity. To compare. Whatever. There's probably going to be a lot of looking here. I mean, I doubt any of you have seen anyone naked that doesn't look like you," Brittany said with a nonchalance that surprised Santana.

"But..." Santana started.

"But what? You own a mirror. Same parts, just different shapes and sizes. And color," Brittany shrugged with a smile.

"So, you've seen a lot of naked women then?" Santana asked, her confidence increasing with the late hour and tired body. She felt like she needed to turn the tables on Brittany.

Brittany laughed and nodded. "I guess I have," she giggled. "I was on the cheer squad at my high school, so yeah. Lockerroom. Lots of naked there."

Santana sat and thought about what Brittany told her. She was envious of Brittany's devil-may-care attitude. Like all of this was old hat to her. Brittany looked over at Santana, and wondered what she was thinking. She smiled and took extra sympathy on her.

"You'll get used to it. I promise," Brittany gently assured her.

"Yeah?" Santana asked, hopeful.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "To be honest, I'd bet you a week's pay you won't give a shit tomorrow after we come in off the job. You'll be too damn tired to care how naked you are or who sees you in the shower."

"Thanks," Santana replied, with a weak smile.

"You got nothing to be ashamed of," Brittany said, as she got up and moved to the ladder.

"So you looked?" Santana asked, as she followed Brittany to the edge of the roof.

"Never," Brittany replied as she descended the ladder.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Got done early, so you get a new chapter! Updates CAN take up to a month, but hey, sometimes only 2 weeks. You're welcome :) Shout out to ohvalerievalerie for the fic poster! So flattered :) Okay, so this is what you've been asking for - the ladies are starting their job. Pull on your boots, grab an axe, and enjoy! Big love to my beta Slayhue for keeping me on track and emailing me in ALL CAPS. Bless her cheerleading.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

Rachel sat straight up, eyes wide open when the bells of her alarm clock rattled at five that morning. Quinn groaned. Tina sleepily opened her eyes. Mercedes looked at Rachel and wore a grimace like she just smelled month old milk.

"You're too awake, too early," Mercedes complained as she eased herself off her pillow.

Santana pried her eyes open and saw an empty bed where Brittany should be. She frowned and sat up.

"Where's Brittany?" Santana asked no one in particular.

Santana looked over at the group and they all just shrugged.

"We better get dressed and find out," Quinn sighed as she pulled her covers back.

After washing up and changing into their work clothes, they walked over to the kitchen for breakfast. Santana was last in line, buttoning her jacket against the damp chill of the late Spring morning. She saw Brittany walk from the woods leading two draft horses. Brittany smiled and waved as the leather rein in her hand wobbled with her motion.

"You going somewhere?" Santana asked, as Brittany tied the horses at the edge of the clearing.

"No, Buster and Charlie are here to work, just like you. Well, not _just_ like you, but, yeah, they're loggers," Brittany explained with a sleepy smile.

After breakfast, Burt outfitted all the women with their tool belts, a hand axe and a felling axe. Burt and Brittany, Kurt and Blaine, led the group to the woods they toured yesterday. Burt pointed out the trees he had marked with white paint.

"These are the ones we're clearing. Once these are gone, we have a clear skid to the landing and the river," Burt explained. "Then we'll move back and over the hill and up river more."

"That's a lot of trees," Tina remarked, her eyes wide.

"The mill has a _lot_ of orders for a _lot_ of wood," Blaine replied.

The five women started their logging lessons. Burt showed them how to determine the lean of a tree, and where to cut to make the tree fall exactly where they wanted. Brittany pointed out "widowmaker" branches to look out for, and how to test for live versus dead wood. With each lesson on logging technique and physics, came a lesson in safety and looking out for one another. The success of the crew depended on the safety of everyone.

"Alright, let's split up," Burt announced. "Rachel, Quinn, you come with me. Mercedes and Tina, go with Kurt and Blaine. Santana, you're with Brittany."

Brittany raised an eyebrow at Burt, he gave her a quick wink and took Quinn and Rachel 50 yards up river. Blaine and Kurt led Mercedes and Tina up river, halfway between Burt, and Brittany.

"Okay, pick a good tree," Brittany said to Santana.

"Already?" Santana asked, a little nervous.

"Weren't you paying attention earlier?" Brittany asked, teasingly.

"Of course," Santana replied, incredulous at the insinuation.

"Then pick a tree you think will be good," Brittany said with her arms crossed.

Santana straightened up at the challenge and nodded. She turned away from Brittany and walked up to a tree.

"What kind is that?" Brittany quizzed.

"Pine," Santana answered.

"What kind?"

"Douglas?" Santana replied.

Brittany nodded. Santana knocked on its trunk, walked around the tree, looked up to see the lean, checked for dead branches high up that were at risk for falling.

"Well?" Brittany asked, watching Santana mull over the tree quality.

Santana nodded. "This is a good one."

Brittany walked around the tree to check for herself. She pulled her hand axe from her belt and cut away a ring of bark. She pulled a charcoal marking chalk from her pocket and handed it to Santana.

"Where do we want it to land?"

Santana looked to the riverbank nearby and the sparse stand of trees between her tree and the river. She pointed to the generous space between a few trees near the river. Brittany agreed.

"Mark where you'll cut," Brittany said, gesturing to the chalk in Santana's hand.

Santana stared at the tree. Burt, Brittany, Kurt and Blaine had explained so much in their lessons before they separated; all the information started to swim in muddied water through her mind. Brittany saw Santana's indecision and stepped in.

"Where do you want it to go again?" Brittany gently asked.

Santana pointed. Brittany nodded.

"Okay, so stand back here and tell me where your first cut will go to make that happen, Imagine watching it fall and how it'll come off the stump."

Santana thought, then drew the top angle on the front, then the bottom. Brittany inspected it, the lean and trajectory, and made a correction.

"Okay, now draw me the back cut. Remember, you should be able to make that little square space we're leaving," Brittany instructed.

Santana drew a square and line, then rubbed it away and started again. She huffed in frustration. Brittany giggled.

"You're making fun of me," Santana grumbled as she looked sideways at Brittany covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"You're just _so _serious. Santana, It's your first day. You're allowed to not know everything. I promise," Brittany explained.

"I just want to get it right," Santana sighed.

"And you _will_," Brittany encouraged. "You just don't have to get it all right all at once."

Santana silently handed the chalk to Brittany, defeated. Brittany made the marks and pointed out why. Santana listened and nodded. She was starting to see the logic behind Brittany's way. The right way.

"Ready to swing an axe?" Brittany asked, cradling her felling axe in both hands.

"When are we getting those chainsaws?" Santana asked, heaving the large axe onto her left shoulder.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Soon. Couple weeks maybe? But they've been telling us that for a couple months," Brittany frowned. "So you have to learn this way, or we'll all be out of a job."

Brittany motioned for Santana to stand back, as Brittany took powerful, precise swings into the tree. Brittany talked Santana through what she was doing. How she used her hips to help her arms and shoulders. How she let the axe do more work than her muscles. How her hands and eyes guided the axe to hit its mark. Santana watched, intimidated and a little mesmerized at Brittany's fluid movements. Every time the axe landed a new chunk of the tree trunk chipped away. Every swing of her hips brought the axe surely to its destination. Brittany stopped, discarded her jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her work shirt. She stepped back, leaned on the handle of the axe resting at her side and motioned Santana to step into her place.

"Your turn," Brittany said cheerfully.

Santana stepped up next to the tree and eyed it suspiciously. Like a foe with whom she was about to do battle. She lifted the axe off her shoulder and wrapped her fingers tightly around the handle. She was determined to win this fight. She took her first swing and missed the wide chunk Brittany had already cut out.

"Relax. Jesus. You don't need to white knuckle it. Loosen your grip. Loosen your shoulders. Loosen your hips," Brittany instructed.

Santana frowned at Brittany, loosened her grip, and eyed the tree again.

"Bend your knees," Brittany called out.

Santana swung. She missed again.

"Okay, okay, stop," Brittany said with a sympathetic smile. "Let's do this step by step. Take off your jacket," she said, walking over to Santana.

"What's my jacket got to do with it?" Santana asked.

"It's too big on you. I can't see what your shoulders, or your waist or your hips are doing. So get rid of it," Brittany explained.

Santana shed her jacket and tossed it on top of Brittany's.

"Now what?" Santana asked.

Brittany walked behind her and put her hands on Santana's shoulders. Santana stiffened.

"Relax, I'm not going to man handle you. Well woman handle. I'm woman handling you. But that can't be bad, can it?" Brittany chuckled.

"I don't know. I don't think I've ever been either handled," Santana said, relaxing a little.

"We're going to go slow and I'm going to help you through the movements. I'm just going to guide you. Axe up, shoulders relaxed," Brittany said, smoothing over her shoulder blades. "Feet steady and apart, now turn your hips with the swing of the axe," Brittany explained and slid her hands onto Santana's waist.

Santana's knees lost their strength. Mercedes and Tina's laughter pealed through the trees. Santana dropped the axe and stepped forward out of Brittany's grasp.

"I'm sorry," Brittany said, feeling she did something wrong, but she wasn't sure what.

"No, it's fine," Santana said, still with her back to Brittany. Santana took a breath and let it out. "I'm okay, show me how to do this," she said, turning around and giving Brittany a weak smile.

Brittany simply smiled and put her hands on Santana's shoulders and gently turned her around.

"We're going to go extra slow. Okay. Axe up, shoulders relaxed. Good. Okay, the axe should slide through your left hand, so don't choke it to death," Brittany instructed.

Santana loosened her grip.

"Now, slowly turn your body as you swing the axe," Brittany directed, her hands returned to Santana's hips and gently coaxed them in the right direction.

Santana felt Brittany softly squeeze the top of her hips and turn them. It was gentle, and caring and a really strange part of chopping down a tree, Santana thought. Santana slowly went through the motion of swinging the axe and hit the mark Brittany started in the tree.

"Good. Okay, a little faster now," Brittany said; her hands moved up to Santana's arms. "Hold the axe about here, ready to swing."

Brittany stepped a little closer behind Santana, and reached for Santana's hands. They were warm and soft and tensed against the axe handle again.

"It's fine, relax. I'm nervous too," Brittany spoke softly into Santana's ear.

"Why are you nervous?" Santana croaked, then cleared her throat.

"I've never done this left handed. It feels different, but in a fun way? I don't know," Brittany laughed.

The puffs of air from her laughter hit Santana's ear and she couldn't stop the goosebumps from running up her arms.

"Ready?" Brittany asked.

Santana nodded. They swung the axe back, it slid through their hands, Brittany's hip nudged Santana's, encouraging it to twist and the blade sunk into the tree.

"How did that feel?" Brittany asked, stepping back with a big grin.

Santana wasn't sure if she was asking about Brittany's hip nudged in the back of her's or the axe swinging. She hoped it was the axe swinging, because she wasn't sure how to feel about having Brittany that close to her. It felt good, but Santana knew she shouldn't say.

"Better. I think," Santana replied, pulling the axe from the tree.

Santana made a few more swings on her own, and Brittany gave fewer and fewer suggestions, the more accurate Santana became. They heard Burt yell "Clear!" and Blaine, Kurt and Brittany all called "clear" in return. The crack snap of wood echoed through the woods, then the woosh and thud of a tree landing to the ground.

"Looks like Quinn and Rachel win for fastest tree faller this morning," Brittany commented.

Santana looked at their tree. "I guess we should hurry up then."

Brittany and Santana took turns chopping away at the trunk. Brittany stopped to inspect their cut and the angle for the tree to fall.

"You think we're ready for the back cut?" Brittany asked as she stepped back.

Santana stepped in and walked around the tree. She bent down and eyed the cut and their mark lines. She stood up and turned to see Brittany thumbing off her suspenders and unbuttoning her work shirt.

"Um, Brittany, what are you doing?" Santana asked, her voice laced with nervousness and concern.

"It's hot. Aren't you hot? I'm sweating," Brittany replied, shrugging off her shirt to reveal a white tank top.

"Clear!" Blaine called out. "Clear!" Brittany replied.

Another tree snapped and fell to the ground.

"But Kurt and Blaine?" Santana asked, conscious of keeping Brittany's modesty.

"Those two? No. Don't worry about them. They've seen me naked. This is nothing. They don't give two hoots," Brittany said as she slipped the suspenders back on her shoulders and walked over to start the back cut.

"What? How? Why?" Santana asked.

"I took a dip in the swimming hole at another camp. They decided that was a great idea too. They didn't know I was there. I didn't know they were there. They stripped down and were about to get in when I was just getting out. We _all_ got an eye full that day," Brittany laughed and shook her head.

Santana's mouth was agape.

"They're like my brothers. They don't look at me like that," Brittany assured her. "Now if it was Puck, that's a different story."

"But they're men, same as Puck," Santana argued.

"Not all men are the same."

Santana raised an eyebrow.

"Are all women the same?" Brittany asked, stepping in to take a swing at the back cut.

Santana thought a moment. "I guess not," she agreed.

"Right," Brittany said, her slice chipping out the trunk. She nodded to Santana to take some turns. "For example, some girls are all boy crazy and like to gossip like your bunkmates yesterday, and some don't say anything at all. Like you."

Santana paused between strokes then returned to chopping.

"Nothing to gossip about," Santana stated plainly with a solid axe strike.

"No dates? No kisses? Ever?" Brittany asked. She really couldn't believe someone as beautiful as Santana never had a date or a kiss.

"I think this tree is about to go," Santana stated.

"Call it," Brittany replied, letting Santana change the subject.

"Clear!" Santana called into the woods.

"Clear! Clear!" she heard from Blaine and a more distant Burt.

"It's all yours Santana. Finish it," Brittany offered.

Santana gave a few more solid chops and the tree cracked, snapped and fell. The top of the tree splashed into the river. It landed exactly where they wanted. Santana smiled and looked at Brittany for approval. Brittany slapped Santana on the shoulder.

"Good. Step one is done," Brittany smiled.

"How many steps are there?" Santana asked.

"You'll see. Next, we've got to swamp it," Brittany replied, pulling the hand axe out of her belt.

She pushed on the fallen tree and tried to move it. It didn't budge. Brittany climbed on the trunk and walked confidently down to the first set of branches. She trimmed them off the main trunk with a swift efficiency. She turned to face Santana.

"Swamping. See if you can do it without falling off," she smiled.

Santana climbed up and she now realized the real advantage of the cork boots. The tiny spikes on the bottom gripped the damp bark and made meeting up with Brittany easy. Brittany grabbed Santana's waist and quickly switched places with her.

"Get started, I have to go get a bucking saw from Burt. And don't fall!" Brittany said as she jumped down.

Santana was still a little startled from being grabbed and spun around.

"Right. Don't fall. Cut tree limbs, not me. Got it," she said to herself, as she pulled the hand axe from her belt.

* * *

Santana trimmed off 20 branches by the time Brittany returned with a two-handled saw and her belt laden with triangle wedges.

"Look at you. A natural swamper," Brittany complimented. "Didn't fall did you?"

"Nope," Santana replied, standing up from her knees and sliding her axe into her belt. "I used to run around fishing boats when I was little, back home. They're a lot slippier than this. Wish I had a pair of these back then," she said, lifting her boot heel.

"I bet," Brittany smiled. "I'll start down the other end and meet you in the middle, okay?"

Santana nodded and returned to clearing the tree trunk. Brittany slowly moved up the tree from the river bank towards Santana. She watched as Santana kept her body clear of the axe swings and used her body to help propel the blade into the branches.

"So, before we were so rudely interrupted by you felling your first tree. You never dated?" Brittany asked.

Santana kept her head down, and concentrated on finishing cutting a branch.

"I had to help my Dad with his practice. If I wasn't in school or doing homework, I was helping him," Santana replied with a huff of impatience with a stubborn branch and Brittany.

"And after you were done with school?"

"Helped my Dad," Santana replied.

"Doing what?" Brittany asked.

"Well, at first, he tried to train me as a nurse. Wanted me to go to school for it. I used to go on calls with him and assist," Santana explained. "It was okay at first, but I couldn't handle it after awhile."

"Why not?" Brittany asked with concern.

"The smells. I couldn't take the smells. Blood I can handle. I cleaned plenty of cuts for my Dad to sew up, but the smell of infection, of pus, of decay, urine, feces..."

"Okay, okay, that's enough. I don't need to hear anymore," Brittany said with a grimace.

"I was done anyway," Santana smiled, happy to make Brittany uncomfortable for once. "So, after I threw up on a patient, I was banished to the office. I kept his books and ordered supplies for almost four years."

"So you're a math wizard?" Brittany grinned.

"Ha! No. I can add and subtract. His books were more challenging because we didn't always get paid in money. He treated a lot of poor people. Mostly poor people. He never turned anyone down," Santana said with a wistful smile. "So it was getting the car fixed, or house cleaned or something repaired. I never had to cook, because there was always a patient fixing our meals in return for medical care. We got a live chicken once," Santana smiled.

"What did you do with it?"

"Gave it away to a family who needed it more than us," Santana replied with a shrug.

"That's very kind of you," Brittany replied softly.

Santana looked up and smiled.

"So how are Quinn and Rachel doing with Burt?" Santana asked.

"You mean how's Burt doing with Quinn and Rachel. And the answer is just fine. Burt's the best guy I know, besides my dad, so Quinn and Rachel seem to have taken to him."

"And Mercedes and Tina? How are they getting along with Kurt and Blaine?" Santana asked.

"I think they're gossiping more than working. Well, okay, that's not quite fair. But those four haven't shut up. It's all movie stars and musicians and Seattle gossip," Brittany explained.

Brittany met up with Santana in the middle, all the branches cleared off the tree.

"Ready for the last step?" Brittany asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Santana replied with a sigh.

Brittany slid off the log and Santana followed. They walked down to the river bank and Brittany picked up the two-handled saw she left there. She pulled a measuring tape from her pocket and handed it to Santana.

"Stop at 10 feet," Brittany ordered.

Santana walked up the hill 10 feet, and marked the line with her axe. Brittany marked the beginning line and pulled out the two-handled bucking saw and handed Santana her end. Brittany explained how she picked a spot that didn't have knots and how to start the cut. Again, sawing was like swinging the axe, more in the hips than in the arms.

"Might want to put your gloves on. Logging's rough enough on your body, you don't need blisters on your hands too," Brittany advised.

Santana pulled the stiff leather gloves from her back pocket and slipped them on. Brittany giggled.

"It's not my fault they're ten sizes too big," Santana complained.

"We'll talk to my dad about getting some new ones ordered. Burt and I will put a list together," Brittany replied. "You ready? I'm pushing to you first"

Santana gripped onto the saw handle. "Ready."

Brittany and Santana sawed back and forth through the log. Once they were halfway through, the tree started to shift with the weight and squeeze the blade. Brittany pulled out a triangle wedge and her hand axe and tapped one into place to open the cut up again.

"I was wondering why I was carrying those around," Santana quipped.

"You're not carrying anything you don't need. Speaking of useful things you're carrying, pull out that can of turpentine and squirt it on the blade. The sap is gunking it up," Brittany instructed.

When they sawed nearly all the way through, Brittany stepped back.

"You finish it. The log is going to roll towards me, so I'm going to get out of the way," Brittany explained.

"You sure you're not just trying to get me to work more?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. "You'll be working plenty. Whoever is on the side the log is going to break to, steps out of the way, so they're around to help you with the next one. Got it?"

"Got it," Santana huffed as she sawed through the last of the log.

Brittany yelled, "Clear!" and gave the log a kick and let it roll to the landing at the river bank.

Santana sat on the remaining tree trunk and looked over at Brittany. She took in her blonde hair tied in a messy bun, strong muscled shoulders and arms from years of logging, slim waist and baggy pants, held up by her red suspenders, her tool belt sagged down her left hip. Santana wondered about Brittany. How someone who lives so isolated, around rough men in the woods, could be so light and well, happy. She didn't blink an eye at the color of Santana's skin, or Tina's or Mercedes. She was confident, able, and accepting of anyone from what Santana could tell.

Brittany looked over at her and smile when Santana quickly looked away.

"What?" Brittany asked with a knowing grin.

"Huh? Nothing," Santana said, brushing her off.

Brittany pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and shook up a cigarette so it stuck out the top and offered it to Santana. Santana took one.

"You think I'm strange," Brittany said, lighting Santana's cigarette, then her own.

"What? No, no, not at all," Santana insisted.

"So you think I'm pretty then?" Brittany asked.

Santana sat speechless. Her mouth agape. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks.

"You were staring, that's why I was asking. So which is it?" Brittany asked with a smirk.

Santana, who was confident in her quick-thinking ways in the past, didn't have an answer. Brittany was strange, and yes, she was pretty. But people didn't just outright ask that of others. But she started to realize, Brittany Pierce did not do what others had done. She did not say what "you're supposed to say" and this set Santana, already off balance and out of place, dumbstruck.

"Aaah, I get it. It's both then!" Brittany smiled triumphantly.

"I...I was just wondering," Santana began, searching for the words that would answer Brittany's questions without answering her questions.

"...why...how you're so accepting. Of me, and Tina and Mercedes. I just never met anyone...you're just...different?"

Brittany raised an eyebrow and smirked again. "Answering a question with a question? Alright, I'll play along," Brittany said, as she sat down next to Santana on the tree trunk.

"Actually, I'll tell you a story. My mother died when I was seven. It was just me and my pop then after that, here at the mill. Maybe six months after she passed, my pop took me into Seattle on a business trip. He was meeting with a construction company owner about something. We were on this construction site. The workers had left, and my pop let me run around, like I always did in the woods here. He and the company owner went into a makeshift office on the site to do paperwork, and I thought it would be a great idea to try to climb the fence that surrounded the site. It turns out, it wasn't such a great idea. I fell onto the sidewalk on the other side. Knocked myself clean out. Next thing I know, I woke up in the arms of a woman. She was soft, and warm and it felt like I was being held by my mother. I opened my eyes, and looked up and her skin was as dark as Mercedes'. I remember asking her if she was an angel, but she chuckled and said her name was Hazel, and she was taking me to the hospital.

When we got to the hospital, a nurse took me from Hazel and put me in a bed. It was strange and cold and there were a bunch of nurses fussing all over me. Then a doctor came in and prodded and poked and pulled at me. I was really scared. I kept asking for Hazel, but they wouldn't get her. Sometime later, I don't know how long, my pop came, and never left my side until they let me go later that day. I was a sight. My head all bandaged up.

As we left the hospital, I kept insisting to my pop that we find my brown angel Hazel. Pop approached I don't know how many colored men and women on the street, asking if anyone knew Hazel. We went into a colored cafe, and they knew a Hazel who ran a hotel up the street, near the construction site.

Pop and I walked in and there she was, behind the front desk of this little hotel. She looked surprised, because I'm sure she hadn't seen many people like my father come in her place who weren't lost. He picked me up in his arms, so Hazel could see me. I just shouted, "My angel!" and reached out for her. Pop let her hold me on her lap as they talked.

When we got back home and I was better, I went back to feeding the horses and running around in the woods and hanging out with the mill guys on their lunch break like I always did. One day I noticed a new worker - a colored man - helping my pop. Then sometime later, weeks maybe, or months, more colored people came to work, or delivered supplies, or came to fix something broken. They did work around our house or at the mill.

Turns out, Hazel refused my father's offer of money as a thank you for saving me that day. Instead, they struck a bargain. If he needed employees, for whatever kind of job, she'd send him reliable, honest, hard working people. And that's what she did. People that looked like Mercedes, or you or Tina or anyone really. Some stuck around, some just worked for a day's wages. I didn't know about any rules about color. I was just a kid out here in the woods.

When I got older I learned about it. I heard people call my pop a nigger lover. Some kids at school teased me about him. Said a lot of mean things. They all ate their words though when everyone was out of a job, and my pop still had work. He had government contracts. Whites only might have been for that hospital or some restaurants, but not here. Since the war though, everyone's been gone. We haven't had any colored people here in a few years, until you folks came."

Brittany paused, lit another cigarette and gave it to Santana. Santana smiled a thank you and she sat in silence, taking in Brittany's story.

"That story explains a lot," Santana admitted, exhaling a puff of smoke. "Still strange though," she smiled

"Don't forget, pretty too," Brittany teased and nudged Santana's shoulder with her own.

Santana smiled and nodded, looking at the cigarette slowly burn down in her hand.

"Hazel still sends your father workers," Santana said.

Brittany nodded.

"She sent me," Santana admitted. "I stayed at her hotel Friday night. She told me I'd find work here, when the shipyard wouldn't take me."

Brittany looked over at her and smiled. "I'll have to write her and thank her."

Brittany and Santana spent the rest of the morning, felling, swamping and bucking trees. Santana was about to give up, her arms, shoulders and back muscles burned with overuse, when she heard the clang of the lunch bell.

"Thank God," Santana exclaimed.

"What? You're tired already?" Brittany joked.

Santana replied with an exhausted, annoyed look. Brittany just laughed at her and led her back to camp. They sat at the table, plates of sandwiches, potato salad, a bowl of apples, coffee and juice lined the center. Santana heard Mercedes, Tina, Kurt and Blaine before she saw them. They were laughing and talking. She wondered how they still had so much energy after the morning's work. She also noticed that Tina was much more engaged. Santana was glad for her; that she found some comfort and friendship out here in the woods. Soon Quinn and Rachel followed with Burt limping along behind. They spoke quietly. Seemed like everyone had a decent morning.

After lunch, Burt pulled Brittany and Kurt aside to talk about the morning training.

"So, how did everyone do?" Burt asked.

"Good," Kurt replied readily. "Tina and Mercedes really work well together bucking logs. I wouldn't have them swamp again though. They fell off about as many times as there are branches," Kurt chuckled.

"How do they handle an axe?" Burt asked.

"So-so," Kurt replied. "First day and all, but it's not their strong suit. Hopefully we'll get chainsaws before we need them to be expert axemen. Women. Axewomen."

Burt nodded. "They going to be strong enough? Hard working enough?"

"I think so. From how they talked, I don't think they have much to go home to. Their wages are being sent back to their families. They're counting on them," Kurt explained.

"Brittany," Burt said turning to her and doffing his cap to scratch his balding scalp. "How did Santana do?"

"We have our swamper. Sure-footed. Pretty quick. Her axe-handling skills need some work," Brittany smiled.

"How much work?" Burt sighed, thinking back to the other women who failed miserably at all aspects of logging.

"She got it eventually. But I don't think she should fell as her main job. When we get the chainsaws, yeah, but she's not the strongest, though stronger than you'd think to look at her. How little she is an' all," Brittany explained.

"She can buck?" Burt asked.

Brittany nodded. "Not half bad."

"Think she can choke and chase?" Burt asked.

"I think if there's any running around or climbing to do, she'd be my pick," Brittany answered.

"How did Quinn and Rachel do?" Kurt asked his father.

"They're machines. So precise with their cuts. It's like they have this competition no one told me about. Who can be more accurate. Who can be most efficient. They were bickering at first, but I nipped that in the bud right away. After that, they just glared and tried to out-do each other," Burt chuckled. "They can cut a tree down though, that's for damn sure."

"Guess we know who's doing what sooner than we thought, huh," Brittany commented.

"Yep. Let's get them together, and see how they work as one crew this afternoon. Brittany, I think Buster and Charlie have some work to do now."

Burt and Kurt returned to the lunch table as everyone smoked and talked about their morning.

"Okay, sounds like everyone had a good morning, so we're going to put you together as one crew. We have some more timber to fell, swamp and buck, so there's plenty of work to keep everyone busy," Burt explained.

Santana watched Brittany load chains and hooks onto Buster and Charlie. They now had a strange frame, like cobbled-together pieces of a cart behind them. She turned back to the group, and saw Quinn look away from her and exhale her cigarette smoke. Santana felt a pang of self-consciousness, but shook it off and got up to follow Burt, Kurt and Blaine back into the woods.

Santana was assigned to swamp the felled trees, Mercedes and Kurt teamed up with Blaine and Tina to buck logs and Rachel and Quinn returned to swinging their axes into more trees further into the forest. Santana was on her own, next to Mercedes and Kurt working a tree next to her. She listened as they debated Count Basie's and Benny Goodman's talents. When the conversation turned to a local singer from Seattle, Santana tuned them out and concentrated on her work. She hummed a tune to herself and her axe cut in time to her own beat.

"...my cousin was a maid for the Fabrays, so I _know_ it's true," Santana heard Mercedes say to Kurt.

"You can't be serious. Your cousin must have it wrong," Kurt countered.

"Maids know more than anyone thinks they do. Or wants to think they do. Trust me, we know more secrets than the government when it comes to rich white folks," Mercedes told him in all seriousness.

"But a _baby_? I thought she was out of the social scene because her father's business went under, not because she got in trouble," Kurt replied.

"With her father's driver of all people too," Mercedes continued. "Word is, her father was secretly supporting her while she was away, but found out the baby's father was his driver. His _Jewish_ driver. That was the last straw. She was cut off," Mercedes said with a solemn nod.

"Wait, wasn't her father having an affair too?" Kurt asked.

"Several," Mercedes said, shaking her head. "I heard he was spending more on his mistresses than his wife _or_ his business."

"No wonder she ended up here," Kurt said with a sympathetic sigh.

"No one else would hire her in Seattle. Damaged goods an' all," Mercedes said, with equal sympathy.

Santana didn't realize she had stopped clearing branches off the tree to listen, until both Kurt and Mercedes stopped talking and looked over at her. Santana's cheeks burned with embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping.

"I won't breathe a word," Santana said to Mercedes and Kurt.

They both raised their eyebrows at her.

"Promise," she said solemnly, then returned to swamping the timber.

Santana swamped and started humming a tune and Mercedes smiled as she resumed sawing. Soon she joined in, singing in harmony with Santana. Santana faltered, then smiled and hummed again. Kurt smiled and concentrated on sawing as Santana and Mercedes sang "I've Heard That Song Before."

"You got a nice voice," Kurt said, as Santana moved down the tree.

"Thanks," she replied, looking over and seeing Kurt's sincere boyish face. "Not as good as Mercedes, though."

"Honed from years of singing in the church choir," Mercedes bragged. "That's your problem Santana. You didn't go to church enough," Mercedes admonished.

"Too busy tending to the sick and poor with my father. You know, doing the Lord's work, instead of just talking about it," Santana quipped.

Kurt snorted. Mercedes stopped and gave Kurt a nasty look and Santana a look of indignation at her sass, but said nothing. She huffed and continued sawing. Kurt looked over at Santana and gave her a conspiratorial wink. Santana bit her lip, so as to not laugh, and returned to her humming and her work. Not five minutes later, Mercedes joined Santana in song once again. Santana got to the end of her tree trunk and sighed. She was starting to feel like she was making friends. Ones with whom she could keep secrets, and tease, and share songs. That little exchange of gossip, of song, and of banter relaxed Santana's mind if not her aching muscles.

She looked up and saw Brittany leading Charlie and Buster towards her along the river bank. She wore her brimmed hat, and had her chaps back on. Brittany smiled and waved, then carefully turned the tandem team around. She hooked and chained a bucked log and secured it to the horses' skid and raised it with a small winch. With a couple clicks of her tongue the team pulled the log from the brush and down to the landing, where she had rolled most of her morning logs with Brittany. Santana watched for a moment, as the afternoon sun dipped and reflected soft yellows into the locks of blonde hair spilling out from under her hat.

"Pretty," Santana whispered to herself. "Yes, very pretty."

* * *

The dinner bell rang and Santana holstered her hand axe like a gunslinger into her tool belt, she was that excited. Exhausted and starved, she still found the strength to jump off the logs and walk ahead of the others to the dinner table. There was no talking at dinner, aside from the intermittent, "please pass the plate of food or salt shaker". They were all hungry and tired. After dinner, the women retired to the bunkhouse and stood around awkwardly near the door, untying their boots. Mercedes was the first to flop down on her bed, and groan.

"Don't get too comfortable Princess," Brittany warned. "You have to shower off the wood chips and pine sap you got all over you. Also, you're probably getting the clean towel and washcloth that Marley set on your pillow all dirty."

Mercedes looked at her hands and arms and groaned again. The energy needed to get up seemed to have been left out in the forest. She felt behind her head and found a soft white terry cloth towel.

"Soap's on the shelf beneath the shower heads in the shower room. There's a hook for your towel and room on the shelf for you shampoo," Brittany said as she dropped her suspenders from her shoulders and unbuttoned her shirt. The other women followed suit, and shed their clothes and wrapped themselves in their towels. Santana pull out her nightgown from under her pillow and laid it out. Rachel grabbed four bottles of hair products. Mercedes donned a shower cap. Brittany led the group into the shower, turned a knob on the right wall and hot water came out of six shower heads and the two bathtub spigots.

"Anyone taking a bath?" Brittany asked?

No one moved.

"Too tired to shake your head or nod?" Brittany teased. "Showers it is then," Brittany proclaimed as she turned off the bath tub spouts.

Brittany unwrapped the towel off her body and hung it up on the hook next to her shower head and stepped into the hot water. Santana's tired eyes weren't quick enough to avert them from seeing the creamy white soft slope of Brittany's hip and curve of her bottom. She swallowed to find little moisture in her mouth. Santana quickly looked straight ahead, hung up her towel, closed her eyes and thanked Jesus, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny for hot showers after the day she had. Audible sighs and groans of relief followed as everyone stepped under the shower heads and cared not one iota how naked they were.

Santana washed her hair and her body. After rinsing off, she inspected her hands and arms, dotted with scrapes and stubborn, sticky, dark brown pine sap. She rubbed at it with the washcloth, with little to show for her effort. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brittany's hand outstretched to her, offering a pumice stone sitting in her open palm. Santana looked over to find Brittany's eyes closed against the streams of water hitting her upturned face. Santana took the pumice stone without saying a word and put it to use. It rubbed her skin red raw, but the pine sap soon disappeared.

Brittany stepped out of the water stream and grabbed her towel. "There's just a few more minutes of water," she announced to everyone. "Finish up," she said as she dried off.

One by one, they all finished and dried off and dressed in their night clothes. Rachel somehow still had the energy to apply two kinds of lotion to her face and arms, before slipping into bed.

"I think I'm taking a bath tomorrow," Tina said as she fell onto her bed. "I needed to soak for at _least_ another hour."

Everyone except Brittany hummed in agreement. Santana's bed never felt more comfortable. She sunk into the mattress and pillow like she was floating on a cloud. She didn't even remember falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Let me just get this off my chest. You all are the finest bunch of fic readers out there. You're funny, sweet, smart, curious and thoughtful. You really make my day. Love your reviews, PMs, tweets and tumblr asks. Thank you. Now, get ready for some emotional and physical highs and lows. More adventure awaits! Big thanks to **slayhue** for keeping me from flying off the rails. There's a second author's note at the end of this chapter to prepare you for the next/rest of the story, so check that out please.

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

Four days into clearing their assigned section of forest, Brittany thought the new logging crew began to settle into a routine. Rachel and Quinn continued to impress Burt with their felling, if not their attitude toward each other. Their bickering was contained, because Quinn was usually the one to keep it so. Rachel was the most opinionated person Brittany had met. They weren't always the wrong opinion, but they grated on Brittany, and more so Quinn, than any other. Mercedes and Tina were a great, if not odd, bucking team. Mercedes never stopped telling stories, giving opinions, or singing at Tina. Tina sometimes chimed in with a comment, but gave her eyes more of a work out with all their rolling. Kurt and Blaine, were, in Brittany's estimation, same old Kurt and Blaine. They helped, they gossiped, they worked hard. They were patient and joking, supportive and correcting when need be.

She watched as Santana joined in on more conversations, and went toe-to-toe with Mercedes' big attitude and even bigger mouth. There was some mutual respect underneath it all, Brittany surmised. To her, that's all that mattered really. But Santana still stood apart from the others, and that difference pulled at Brittany. It tugged at the back of her brain, and tickled her thoughts. It was like when she removed a splinter from her finger. It was gone, but a speck of grit still lingered. A tiny grain of wood still prodded and hid under her skin. She could ignore it, but it never quite went away. And when the night was quiet, with nothing to distract her, she felt it poke and nudge.

After breakfast Friday morning, Santana sought out Burt in his workshed. She found him inside, sitting on a stool, sharpening one of many axes. A small handsaw, a one-handled miniature version of the felling saws, sat upside down in a vice next to him. His right leg stretched out alongside the honing wheel, his left leg bent and tucked behind his stool.

"Hi Santana," Burt said, lifting his eyes from his work. "How can I help you?"

"Um, hi. I was wondering if my hand axe was ready. Kurt let me borrow his, but it feels too big."

Burt smiled, "Heavier, not bigger. But I understand. Almost finished with it. Just a few more minutes," he assured her.

Santana nodded and rested against the door frame. Her eyes wandered around the room and landed on his outstretched lame leg.

"Can I ask...about your leg?" Santana hedged. She wasn't sure if it was medical curiosity or Burt curiosity, but she was intrigued nonetheless.

"You can ask," Burt said, still sharpening the axe. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want me to answer?" he teased.

Santana sighed in mock exasperation. "If it's too personal..."

"Nope," Burt said with a shake of his head. "Traded in a piece of my leg for some shrapnel in Morocco when I was with the 60th Infantry last year."

"Go Devils," Santana replied with a smile.

"Go Devils," Burt smiled back.

"Sorry, there's one more thing," Santana said with some trepidation.

"Nothing to be sorry for. Yet," Burt said with a wink.

Santana stuttered a laugh and nodded. She told herself to relax. "Um, Brittany said I'd need a handsaw for a new job. Is that it?" Santana asked, pointing to the vice-held blade.

Burt shook his head and chuckled. "Her money's on you is it? Figures," he said. "My money's on Quinn to be honest. Kurt thinks it'll be Rachel."

"What are you talking about?" Santana asked, stepping into the shed.

"We've cleared out most of the area we need to. We need a spar tree, so I can get the yarder out and we can get the logs to the river without using Buster and Charlie all the time. They're great in tight spots, but they're slow. Well, slower than we need," Burt explained.

"I don't understand," Santana admitted, as she took a seat on the empty stool Burt nudged towards her.

"One tree, in the clearing, will be our spar to attach cables and pulleys. We'll use it and the yarder to pull the logs out and swing 'em on down to the river. The job for you, or Quinn or Rachel, but let's be honest, it's not going to be Rachel, is to climb it, swamp it, and top it."

Santana stepped out of the shed and saw the lone top of a tree above the rest. She gulped.

"That's...uh..."

"Bout 150 feet, yeah," Burt said with a mischievous grin. "Not scared of heights are you?"

Not until now, Santana thought. She shook her head and gave him a weak smile. She straightened up.

"So you three have a bet on us? What's the bet?" Santana asked.

"If Brittany wins, Kurt and I have to muck the horse stalls for a week. If Kurt wins, we have to fix our own shirts, because he's sick of doing them and we won't learn to sew. If I win, then Kurt and Brittany will be sitting here, fixing and sharpening all the equipment for a week," Burt explained. "There's also a crate of beer and a day's wage riding on you."

"Rich bet," Santana commented, and felt the weight of a day's wage on her shoulders.

Burt shrugged. "We make our own entertainment up here. A rich bet makes it a bit more exciting."

Burt inspected the axe and handed it to Santana handle first. "I'll be out with your saw in a bit. You'll need that axe too, so hold onto it," he smiled.

"Thank you Burt," Santana replied as she ducked out the shed and back to the work site.

* * *

Santana arrived at the site to find all three pairs bucking logs. Rachel and Quinn were done felling trees and joined Mercedes, Tina, Kurt and Blaine in cutting the logs to 10, 12 and 16 foot lengths. Brittany was up the hill, surveying the next stand of trees they would cut. Santana tested then hopped onto a fallen tree near Quinn and Rachel to start her swamping for the morning.

Rachel started talking about opening nights at her father's theater. It was "party this" and "fancy dress that". Santana tuned her out. Santana assumed Rachel was attempting to find common ground with Quinn and her rich lifestyle, but it didn't look like Quinn was interested, from the quick glances Santana took of Quinn.

"Shit!" Quinn muttered.

"What?" Rachel asked, stopping her saw.

"Hit a knot. I thought you said it was clear," Quinn huffed and pulled away the saw.

"Looked fine to me. I thought you checked as well," Rachel replied defensively.

"Ugh, let's just finish this," Quinn replied, resetting her saw. "It'll just take longer."

As the log began to break toward Rachel, Rachel stepped out of the way and let Quinn finish. Santana slid down from the tree she finished clearing 20 feet away down the hill. She pulled out a cigarette and set it between her lips. She fished in her pocket for a box of matches when Kurt yelled.

"_Santana_! _Move_!" Kurt screamed.

She looked up to see the three feet wide log Quinn had just cut rolling toward her. The cigarette dropped from her lips, and she scrambled on top of the tree she just swamped. The runaway log slammed into the felled tree, just missing Santana's foot, but knocking the tree and her off balance. Santana tumbled over and onto the ground below.

Kurt and Blaine rushed to her side and yelled for Mercedes and Tina to get up the hill to avoid anymore unstable timber. They pulled Santana up and rushed her to the others above the fallen trees. Brittany came running down from over the hill, her red suspenders off her shoulders bounced at her sides. She saw Kurt and Blaine crouched over Santana.

"What the fuck happened?!" Brittany yelled.

"I'm fine, just a couple scrapes," Santana said, standing up, brushing herself off. She brushed Blaine off her as well and stood near Mercedes and Tina. Blood rose from the scrapes on her arms from falling into the underbrush.

Brittany looked at Santana with her cut dirty arms, her mussed hair full of pine needles and leaves with wide eyes, then they narrowed. "What happened," she growled turning her head.

"A bucked log broke and fell right in line with Santana," Kurt explained.

"Who called the 'clear' before they sawed all the way through?" Brittany asked, looking at Rachel and Quinn.

No one answered.

"Who. the. _fuck_ made sure it was clear before they finished bucking?" Brittany asked, her voice low and gravelled. "I've been hearing 'clear' all morning. Why didn't it happen this time?" Brittany pressed.

"I forgot," Quinn admitted. "I was frustrated. Rachel was going on and on about..."

Brittany took three big steps to Quinn, grabbed her shirt collar with both hands and shoved her against the remains of the fallen tree. Quinn gasped and winced at Brittany's grip and glare. She felt Brittany's angry breaths escaped her nose onto her own face. Quinn thought Brittany would hit her. Or scream in her face. Brittany's eyes lost that light twinkled blue and turned dark and dull. Her cheeks turned from pale freckled white to red in a blink of Quinn's eyes.

"I should've checked as well," Rachel said in Quinn's defense.

Brittany silently raised her palm at Rachel to stop any more words from escaping her mouth. Her angry stare never left Quinn's frightened green eyes. Brittany's other hand gripped Quinn's shirt tighter. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Britt, _don't_," Santana softly pled.

Brittany blinked. Quinn saw something pass behind Brittany's eyes she didn't recognize. Brittany's mouth slowly closed, her lips pursed. She gave Quinn another shove and let go.

Brittany stomped up the hill with her eyes focused on the ground, grabbed Santana's hand and pulled her to follow. Brittany had a vice grip on Santana's hand as they made their way back to the camp. Brittany said nothing as they walked. Santana kept looking over, watching Brittany's face to see how angry she was. She couldn't tell. It appeared blank and still hard as stone.

Quinn smoothed down her shirt and found Rachel at the next cutting point of the log, bucking saw poised and waiting for her. Quinn gave Rachel a small smile of thanks and looked over at Kurt as she grabbed the handle. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he cut her off.

"Just get back to work," Kurt said, his voice laced with disappointment.

Quinn took a deep breath, gripped the saw and looked at Rachel. Rachel nodded back with a sympathetic smile and pushed the saw across the bark.

Brittany sat Santana down on the table outside the kitchen and finally released her grip. Santana's skin was white and reflected Brittany's finger marks. They quickly turned pink, under her natural tan.

"Sorry," Brittany muttered as she inspected Santana's bloody scrapes.

"It's fine," Santana replied, flexing her hand.

"No it's not," Brittany answered. "Marley! Bring me the med kit," Brittany called as she squatted down.

Marley appeared with a dented, hinged, metal box, a washcloth slung on her shoulder and a bowl of warm water. Brittany barely looked up when Marley handed her the washcloth. Marley retreated as quietly as she arrived. Brittany dipped it in the bowl, wrung out the extra water with her fist and wiped the dirt and drying blood off of Santana's arms. Santana soon stilled Brittany's hand and took the washcloth from her.

"When did I turn into an invalid?" Santana asked.

Brittany paused and looked up at her with sad worry in her eyes.

"I'm fine. It's scratches," Santana soothed. "Nothing is broken. I don't need stitches."

Brittany sighed relief and nodded. "I'm sorry, it's just...it's your first week, and I don't..."

"Treat me, and Quinn for that matter, like you'd treat any other new logger, please."

"I _did_ treat Quinn exactly like I treat any logger who has shit for brains," Brittany said with disapproving shake of her head.

"And me? Pretty sure you'd tell Kurt to rub some dirt on it and stop whining if he had a few scrapes," Santana teased. "Not coddle him."

Brittany looked hurt.

"I'm sorry," Santana added. "I really do appreciate your concern. It's sweet. But I don't need the others thinking I'm getting special treatment."

Brittany nodded. "Kurt says mud is good for the pores," Brittany chuckled, finally relaxing.

Santana pulled out the alcohol and gauze from the kit and rubbed it over her scrapes. She hissed from the sting. "Well I don't need mud in _these_ pores."

Brittany watched as Santana cleaned her cuts. Santana saw Brittany's eye twitch with each of her own winces. Once she was finished, she shook her arms, trying to shake away the sting. Santana ran her hand over her hair and pulled out a pine needle.

"I must be a sight," Santana sighed, as she pulled twigs and pine needles and leaves from her hair.

Brittany just smiled and nodded, then frowned with a new thought.

"Why were you downhill from their bucking? You know better than that," Brittany asked.

"You going to beat me up too, if I tell you I forgot?" Santana asked with a nervous smile.

"No," Brittany sighed and rolled her eyes. "And I didn't beat Quinn up. Just wanted to...make a point about safety and her crewmates."

"I think she pissed her pants, to be honest," Santana chuckled.

"Probably too hard on her," Brittany thought aloud.

"Leave it. You're scary when you're angry. She'll take you more seriously now, I bet," Santana theorized.

"Did I scare you?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah, a little. I thought you were going to hit her, or I don't know. You were, um, intimidating," Santana admitted.

Brittany sat silent for a few moments. She worried her bottom lip in her teeth and nodded.

"Remember that, if you ever find yourself on the wrong side of a bucking team again," Brittany advised.

Santana swallowed nervously and nodded as she watched Brittany walk away.

* * *

Quinn gave Brittany a wide berth the rest of the morning and all through lunch. After lunch, the crew returned to the woods and gathered at the clearing with the lone spar tree, waiting to be topped. Burt arrived shortly after with thick ropes and belts hanging off his shoulders.

"Who's afraid of heights?" Burt asked.

Tina, Mercedes and Rachel tentatively raised their hands.

"_Really_ Rachel?" Kurt asked, deflated.

"Quinn?" Burt asked.

"What's the job?" Quinn asked, looking up at the tree.

"Climb it. Swamp it. Top it," Burt explained.

Quinn looked up at the tree, then down to the ropes and belts and metal loops. She shook her head.

"I don't usually mind heights, but thats..." Quinn said, straining her neck to look up.

"...really high," Rachel finished, looking up with her.

Quinn nodded.

Santana looked at Burt and gave him a small smile, as he frowned at Quinn's answer. She looked at Kurt, who was shooting daggers with his eyes at Rachel. She turned to Brittany, who had an expectant look on her face.

"Well?" Brittany asked.

"You going to show me, or do I have to figure out how not to fall from 100 feet all on my own?" Santana asked with a grin.

"I'll do you one better, I'll go up with you," Brittany replied, and grabbed the leather belts and thick ropes.

Brittany pulled through the leather belts and metal loops and straps and ropes to find four metal and leather braces. They reminded Santana of Polio leg braces, but half the size. Brittany handed two braces to Santana.

"Careful of the spike," Brittany cautioned.

Brittany sat down on the ground and motioned Santana to join her. Brittany slid her long leg into the brace, her boot stopped by the metal strap under foot. She waited for Santana to do the same, then tightened the strap across the top of her boot and buckled it. Santana tightened her buckle, then Brittany leaned forward, undid the strap and tightened it one more notch. Brittany sat back and fastened the top strap just under her knee. She watched as Santana mimicked her movements and looked over at Brittany with an expectant look.

"Well?" Santana asked.

Brittany got on her knees, grabbed the outside metal band of the climbing spike and yanked Santana's leg up, checking for a snug fit. Santana fell back on her elbows and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Do I pass muster?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded. "That'll do. Do the other one the same."

Santana and Brittany donned their climbing spikes, the points flush with the inside sole of their boots in front of the heel.

"Cozy?" Burt asked Santana.

"The cozier the better, right?" she asked.

Burt smiled and nodded.

Brittany pulled out a thick brown leather belt with round metal rings attached at even points. Two thick flat cotton straps dangled from the back, offset to the side. She slipped it around Santana's hips and pulled it tight.

"Jesus Brittany, I think I need to breathe," Santana complained.

"I think you need to not fall," Brittany said with a smirk. "Now grab the end of one of those straps hanging off your ass and pull it through your legs."

Santana paused, then reached between her legs and grabbed the end of one strap. Brittany took the end out of her hand and hooked it onto the front of her belt and pulled tight. Santana winced.

"Did it pinch you?" Brittany asked.

"Kind of. I'm not used to...um...it's snug," Santana squirmed at the strap pinching between her legs.

Brittany loosened it, and let Santana adjust the strap that hugged her butt cheek and inner thigh. Then tightened the strap again. Santana pulled the second strap through and adjusted it for her comfort. Brittany again, tightened it on the front.

Santana's back was to Mercedes when she heard the scoff. Santana turned her head.

"What?" Santana asked.

"Leave it to a Mexican to have a white girl's ass," Mercedes said as she shook her head.

Santana frowned, then worry spread across her face. Brittany peered around Santana's back.

"Jealous Mercedes?" Brittany asked. Mercedes huffed and rolled her eyes.

Santana looked back and the straps accentuated the curve of her bottom. Her eyes darted to Kurt and Blaine, who looked amused at her distress.

"Don't mind us," Blaine smiled. "Part of the job. We've all worn that get up."

She turned back to Brittany,who shrugged, winked and then slung a thick soft, heavy rope over Santana's shoulder.

"Follow me," Brittany said and led Santana to the spar tree.

Burt limped along with them and slid Santana's hand axe into a one belt loop, the handsaw, secured with a tether was added to another belt loop. Brittany wove one end of her thick rope through her belt loops, then threw the other end around the tree. She picked up the loose end, tied and clipped it to her belt. She stood at the tree, holding on to the looped rope around the trunk. Brittany shunted it upwards, grabbed the tree trunk, then dug her right foot and spike into the tree, she stepped up, dug her left foot into the tree, inched the rope up and leaned back into her harness.

Santana watched intently. It seemed simple enough. Climb up the tree with the spikes, and the rope prevented her from falling backwards. Brittany made it look easy. It's like she just walked up the tree. Like she was walking down a sidewalk, or taking steps on a ladder. She looked up at Brittany. Brittany smiled down upon her.

"Burt, you want to get our newest high-climber tied off and ready to go?" Brittany asked.

Burt nodded and prepared Santana at the base of the tree. She swung the rope around and he caught it. He tied it to her belt and clipped it on, then tugged it to make sure it wouldn't slip.

"Thanks," Santana said.

"Don't take a new step, until you're sure your last spike is in solid. It's all in the legs. If you slip, the rope will catch you. Hug that tree and dig in your spikes. Got it?"

Santana nodded and smiled. "Got it."

"Why you takin' all day?" Brittany teased from 10 feet off the ground.

"Why you care?" Santana shouted back.

"Sooner we get this done, the sooner I win the bet," Brittany said.

Santana took her first step and sunk her left spike into the tree. She stepped up, bounced her weight a little on her left leg, satisfied it held, and sunk her right spike in. Her confidence grew with each step and Brittany began climbing ahead of her. They hit the halfway point and Santana looked down. She saw the small figures of the logging crew looking up at them.

"You okay?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah. I just keep thinking they're still staring at my backside," Santana complained.

"Let 'em," Brittany laughed. "You got a nice butt. Flaunt it."

"Brittany!" Santana protested. She shook her head and tried to rid herself of the flattered feeling that fluttered in her chest and her stomach.

"We're 75 feet up a tree and you're talking about my behind," Santana admonished. "You're ridiculous."

"Guilty," Brittany chuckled.

"You've spent too much time with men. They've made you crass," Santana replied.

"I shower with you. I'm making a completely objective observation," Brittany argued.

"Brittany, you're not supposed to look!" Santana said in a harsh whisper.

"No, you're not supposed to admit to it. There's a difference," Brittany chuckled.

"You're incorrigible," Santana admonished, trying to be more angry than the flattered and embarrassed she was feeling.

"I'm just honest. I think there's a difference," Brittany explained. "What's wrong with honesty amongst friends?"

Santana felt flushed when Brittany called her a 'friend'. She giggled and looked up at the first set of branches

'Why are you so happy all of a sudden. Five seconds ago you were giving me lessons in decorum," Brittany teased.

Santana hesitated, then decided she would give 'honesty amongst friends' a try.

"I like that you called me your friend," she admitted.

"Good," Brittany smiled.

Brittany gripped the first branch above her, leaned back and pulled out her axe.

"Hold onto the branch above you as you're leaning back," Brittany instructed. "You'll feel better about hanging out there the first time with just a rope and a prayer that way."

"Burt tugged it tight before I started the climb," Santana assured her.

"It's just a good habit to be in. You never know if something got loose on the way up."

Santana did as she was told and felt the support of her belt, straps and rope keep her tethered to the tree. She pulled out her axe and swung awkwardly at the branch next to her.

"Strange isn't it?" Brittany chuckled.

"Yeah," Santana nervously laughed.

"You'll get the hang of it."

* * *

"What bet?" Quinn asked the group as they milled around near the spar tree.

"Burt, Kurt and Brittany each had a bet on which one of you would top the tree," Blaine explained.

"Who bet on whom?" Rachel asked.

"Burt bet on Quinn, Kurt bet on you, and Brittany bet on Santana," Blaine replied.

"Figures," Quinn said sourly, looking up at the girls clearing branches. She looked over at Burt, and her face fell apologetic. "Sorry I lost the bet for you."

Burt's frown from Quinn's sulky comment toward Brittany faded. "It's okay," he said. "Not like I haven't mucked those stables before."

"You have to what?" Rachel asked as she turned to Kurt.

"We lost, so we have to do Brittany's chore of mucking the stables. We also each owe her a day's pay and a crate of beer," Kurt explained.

"I am _so_ sorry," Rachel began. "If I had known the stakes, I might have found, somewhere, _deep_ inside me, the courage to attempt such a daring feet as to scale 100..."

"150," Blaine corrected.

"150 feet," Rachel continued, "So you weren't so burdened with losing this..."

Kurt raised his hand to Rachel to silence her.

"It's fine Rachel. It's fine. We've done these bets before. I'll live," he assured her.

"Who usually wins?" Tina asked.

Burt, Blaine and Kurt looked up the tree, "Brittany," they all said in unison.

The tree branches fell to the ground as Brittany and Santana worked their way up the 150 foot tree. Brittany pulled out a tape measure near the top and Santana helped her steady it.

"Nine and a half feet, so we're good," Brittany said as she pulled the tape away.

"Good for what?" Santana asked.

"Now comes the fun part, we have to top it. We want the top cut to be between three and four feet in diameter, so when you do the math, we're good," Brittany explained.

"Look at you dividing by pi in your head," Santana complemented.

"I can divide by three Santana," Brittany said dismissively.

"3.14," Santana corrected.

"Close enough," Brittany replied.

"So we just...start?" Santana asked.

"Not so fast, get even with me, and for christ sake don't cut my rope when you start swinging," Brittany cautioned.

Santana climbed up, and Brittany stepped off her spikes, one at a time to get Santana's rope just below hers.

"Hi," Brittany smiled as she craned her neck around to see Santana.

"Hi," Santana smiled back as she leaned to greet Brittany as well as possible.

"Ready?" Brittany asked.

"Do I have a choice?" Santana nervously asked.

"Not really. It's the swaying isn't it?" Brittany asked.

Santana nodded. "It's an odd feeling being this far up and just swaying in the breeze with nothing but a rope and two spikes holding me up. Though it does kind of feel like being on a boat."

Brittany reached out and gave a little tug on Santana's rope.

"I won't let you fall," Brittany replied.

Santana felt those words as much as she heard them. She stared into the tree bark, thankful Brittany couldn't see her reaction. A faint calm smile crossed Santana's lips.

"Promise," Brittany added.

Santana closed her eyes and nodded. Yes, she knew, somehow, somewhere inside, she would be safe with Brittany.

* * *

Brittany and Santana descended the spar tree, once their work was finished and were greeted

by Alex Pierce.

"Hey Pop!" Brittany called, as she stepped out of her belt and rope. "What brings you up here?"

"Oh you know, wanted to check in on you gals and see how everything was going," he said, as he looked around the cleared area of the forest. "You've been busy, I see. The crew's still working over there, got your spar set."

"Yep, good crew. Fast learners and determined, so pretty damn good results," Brittany said with pride.

"Santana, so you were the brave soul to make the climb. Good for you," Alex said as he held out his hand and shook Santana's hand.

"Thank you sir," Santana replied.

Alex gave her a mocking disapproving look. "I don't see any 'sirs' around here. Do you Brittany?"

"Nope," Brittany agreed. "I see a boss, or an Alex or a Mr. Pierce, but no sirs."

Santana rolled her eyes at Brittany. "Thank you Mr. Pierce," Santana said with a grateful smile.

"I just got done talking to one of our suppliers and chainsaws will be shipped in a couple weeks," Alex said to Brittany.

"That's what they've been saying for months Pop," she sighed.

"It's real this time," Alex promised. "And I have a shipment of fuel to come with it, so your crew will be set. I already let Burt know."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Brittany replied with little hope.

"I brought the week's papers up too. Billy brought them up from Seattle. I'm sure the girls will want to catch up on the news," Mr. Pierce offered. "They're with Marley over at camp."

Brittany pulled out a pocket watch and flipped open the lid. "Quittin' time's a few hours yet. They'll be grateful for news then, I'm sure," Brittany replied.

"You're done for the day, though aren't you?" Alex asked.

"It's too early, isn't it?" Santana asked. "Shouldn't we take care of the tree top?"

"I heard you won the bet," Alex said to both Brittany and Santana.

"Sure did," Brittany said with a big grin. "This one here was a champ," Brittany said, swinging her arm around Santana and half hugging her to her side.

Santana stiffened with surprise, but quickly softened into Brittany's side. Brittany let go as quickly as she started. It was over in a moment. Alex grinned.

"Well since you won, you get to knock off early Santana. You and Brittany get to start the weekend early," Mr. Pierce explained.

"Oh no, I couldn't. I should join the others and finish the work day," Santana deferred.

"Nope. Those are the rules," Alex said with a grin.

"I really shouldn't get special treatment," Santana weakly argued.

"You were the one brave enough to do it. You earned it," Brittany replied. "Whoever wins the next bet, gets the spoils then."

"But the others..." Santana began

"...will step up next time to get a short day and bragging rights," Alex interjected. "Go on now. Go relax," Alex said as he shooed them away.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Brittany said. "Thanks Pop! See you tomorrow!" Brittany called as she pulled Santana away.

Santana gave Mr. Pierce a smile and awkward wave goodbye and followed Brittany back to camp.

* * *

Brittany sat at the table by the kitchen with her cigarette and sipped on her bet-winning Rainier beer. Next to her, Marley sat, drinking her Coke. Both stared out into the clearing that separated the bunkhouses.

"I think we need a fire pit," Brittany mused. "Wouldn't that be nice?" she asked.

Marley nodded.

"Think Santana and I can dig one out in the next couple hours?"

Marley paused for thought, shrugged, then nodded 'yes'.

"What do you think of her?" Brittany asked. "You like her?"

Marley smile and nodded.

"Yeah, I like her too," Brittany agreed with a little sigh.

Marley looked at Brittany out of the corner of her eye, and a small smile ghosted her lips. She slowly nodded.

Santana finished using the outhouse and walked up to the kitchen carrying a metal pail.

"Hey Marley, we're out of ash. Do you have more?" Santana asked, swinging the the pail in front of her.

Marley took it from her, and disappeared into the kitchen. Less than a minute later, she walked down the path towards the outhouse.

"I would've done it," Santana said to Brittany as she watched Marley disappear into the woods.

"I was talking her ear off. I'm sure she was happy to take a break," Brittany replied.

"What were you talking about?" Santana asked as she sat up on the table next to Brittany.

"We were talking about how it was a brilliant idea for you and me to dig a fire pit out there," Brittany said, pointing to the center clearing.

"Thanks for volunteering me. I thought we were supposed to be relaxing and enjoying the spoils of a well-won bet?" Santana replied with amusement.

"Wouldn't you enjoy a nice fire after a hard day's work? Keeps the bugs away too," Brittany reasoned.

"I always liked a good bonfire down on the beach," Santana replied. "The guys used to have them when they came in from a day of fishing."

"So it was just you and a bunch of fishermen. At night. Around a fire. Drinking I'm sure. And you never dated any of them? I find that hard to believe."

"No," Santana said, shaking her head. "It wasn't like that. The older ones, they knew me since I was little. It was like having a dozen older brothers. Anytime the younger ones started to get fresh with me, my guys, they'd toss them in the ocean to cool off," Santana explained with a shake of her head.

"Same here. Well, no ocean to toss them into, but Burt and the millers, they wouldn't let any of the new guys come near me," Brittany said with a sigh.

"You seem disappointed," Santana replied.

"Oh, well, I snuck away with a few before the guys caught on. We'd go for a drive. Park. You know. Nothing serious. Just a bit of fun," Brittany said with a shrug.

Santana raised an amused eyebrow.

"Just kissing. Come on. I'm not _that_ girl," Brittany said with an eye roll and a grin.

Marley returned to the kitchen table with two shovels. She leaned them against the table and retreated to the kitchen.

"Guess Marley is on board with the fire pit?" Santana said.

"Shall we?" Brittany asked as she got up and grabbed the shovels.

For the next hour, Brittany and Santana dug out a round fire pit. The earth was dark and soft from years of moisture and mulched leaves. They gathered rocks from behind the bunkhouse and lined the inside ring. Marley joined them with an armful of brush for kindling, and deposited it in the middle of the pit. She returned as quietly as she arrived, back to preparing dinner.

"Does she ever talk?" Santana asked, as she rolled a discarded log to use as a seat at the pit.

"She has to me," Brittany replied. "But only when she has something important to say."

"What did she say?" Santana asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Thank you," Brittany replied.

Marley soon rang the dinner bell, and the crew emerged from the woods a few minutes later. They slumped in their seats and immediately dug into the food Marley prepared. Mercedes looked up and saw the fire pit.

"When did you have time to do that?"

"They got to quit early for winning the bet. Looks like they made good use of their time," Burt answered.

"Thank you," Tina said to Santana and Brittany.

"You're welcome," Brittany grinned between bites.

"There's more," Santana added. "You get my half of the beer."

"Who said I was sharing it with you?" Brittany joked.

Santana gave Brittany a playful, yet pointed nudge.

"I'm kidding. Yes, beers and fire for everyone tonight!" Brittany cheerfully announced.

After their showers, the girls traded beers and stories around the campfire with Kurt and Blaine. Burt pulled Brittany aside before she could join the group. He handed her a folded up wad of money.

"Mine and Kurt's wages. We're square now," Burt offered with a forced smile.

"Thanks Burt, but you know I wouldn't have pushed you for it," Brittany replied, pocketing the cash.

"I know kiddo. So, you've had a week with this group. What do you think?"

"I like them," Brittany said with a shrug. "Quinn's got to work on being a little less self-centered. But so does Rachel. I think those two will learn, though it may take awhile for them to think about others before themselves. Mercedes is funny. I like her. Under all that mouth, she's a hard worker. Tina's going to cook for us tomorrow. Her and Mercedes have this on going argument about how to cook things. You up for some Korean chicken?"

"Never had it, so we'll see," Burt smiled. "Marley okay with someone in her kitchen?"

Brittany nodded. "Honestly, I think she's thankful for the break."

"She's a good kid," Burt replied.

"The best," Brittany agreed.

"So, you figure Santana out yet?" Burt asked.

Brittany looked across the clearing and saw Santana listening to Tina talk. Santana smiled and nodded. The orange glow lit up her face and danced across her skin and dark wavy hair. Brittany watched as Santana tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Mmmm," Brittany replied absentmindedly.

"Is that a yes?" Burt chuckled.

'Huh? Oh, no. Not yet," Brittany chuckled with a little nervousness. "I like her. But she's...I dunno. I'm still working on that."

"Well good. Keep working on that. You deserve to have a friend of your own," Burt replied.

"I've got you," Brittany argued.

"Someone your own age," Burt corrected.

"Kurt and Blaine," Brittany countered.

"You need a best friend. Kurt and Blaine are best friends. You need something like they have," Burt advised.

Brittany raised her eyebrows at the thought.

"What?" Burt asked.

"Nothing," Brittany replied. "Nothing."

Burt went back to his cabin and left Brittany alone, away from the fire and away from the group. She sat near the kitchen, in the shadows, and watched and thought. She thought about what Burt said about her needing someone like Santana. Or did he mean she needed Santana? Brittany wondered if Burt knew about his son and Blaine like she knew them.

Brittany watched the fire pit thin out as the loggers slowly retired for the night. She saw Santana occasionally look up and around. Brittany thought she was looking for her. Brittany hoped Santana was looking for her. Brittany thought she may have been too honest when they were topping the tree earlier. She hoped Santana was just uncomfortable with the attention of the compliment, not the compliment itself. Santana said she liked that Brittany wanted to be her friend even after all that. Brittany reassured herself that honesty was best, even if it was about Santana's body. She had a nice body. A really nice body, and it started to bother Brittany that she couldn't shake those images out of her head. It was never an issue in high school. Brittany never recalled wanting to see her teammates undressed. It was just part of being a cheerleader. And it's not like she thought that of the other women in the crew. All of them were beautiful in their own way, but Santana. Santana pulled at her. Thinking about Santana started to take up more and more of her time. Did she like Santana the way Kurt liked Blaine?

Brittany watched as Santana said goodnight to her crewmates, as they left, one by one. Brittany sat and watched Santana finally sit alone. Her face glowed with flames and a sheen of sweat. She watched as Santana looked around once more, then thumbed off her suspenders and unbuttoned her work shirt. Brittany silently encouraged her to take shirt off. Then admonished herself for the thought. When Santana did pull her work shirt off, and revealed a men's white tank top, Brittany's jaw dropped, then curled into a smile. She didn't even notice her putting it on this morning. Looked like Santana was adopting the logger lifestyle, undershirt and all. Brittany's chest swelled with a little pride in that moment.

Brittany quietly chuckled when Santana slipped one suspender back on, sat up and looked at her chest, then half slipped the suspender off, looked around, then slipped both suspenders on. Brittany watched the flames flickering over Santana's cheeks, her jawline, her nose, her little ears and lips. Those lips. Brittany licked her own lips, and had a thought.

"Well, shit," she said under her breath, then found the courage to join Santana at the fire ring.

* * *

**A/N:** This story is sectioned out into seasons and covers two years, so I will use time jumps in this story. Now that you're settled in with the logging crew and their jobs and life at the camp, I'll skip forward. I'll put a month and date in bold at the top of the chapters so you know what time of year you're in. You may notice tonal shifts as well, as the seasons change.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Once again, you all prove to be the most generous and engaging readers. Thank you for your input, questions, and flails. You squee like no others :) You always make me smile! Big love to my beta slayhue for putting up with me. Big, wet, possibly sloppy kisses to all of you fabulous readers!

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

**September 1943**

The days became cooler and shorter as Summer turned into Fall. Four months, three birthdays and two more bets - all won by Brittany - passed. The logging crew worked like veterans now, and Brittany watched them with pride as they fired up their chainsaws and cut timber like any other seasoned logger. Their bodies changed, more than their attitudes, from the first week on the job. They still bickered from time to time. They were friendly with each other, but Brittany wouldn't necessarily call them all good friends. Mercedes lost nearly 25 pounds over the summer. Kurt had to stop taking in her pants and find her new ones. Rachel, Quinn, Tina and Santana all gained muscle. Brittany noticed just a week ago, how Santana's shoulders and arms dipped and swelled with strong, defined muscle. Using a 30 pound chainsaw all day would do that. She also noticed her butt looked better, which Brittany didn't think was possible.

Santana rarely felt the need to escape to the rooftop at night. Long days of hard work silenced most worried thoughts in her mind at night, as her body succumbed to sleep. By the end of the summer she felt more at home with the other women, in the woods, in the bunkhouse. Rachel grew on her, though she remained annoying. They found a common love of music, and with Mercedes, they often led the crew in song around the fire. Quinn remained polite, yet distant. She reminded Santana of her old neighbor's cat that never came for pets. The cat would just sit nearby, feigning interest, but ever watchful. They regularly helped each other out on the job, as did everyone. If they didn't, they learned quickly that Brittany would be in their faces and in their ears with swearing and threats of outhouse duty or her boot up their ass. Perhaps it's when Santana bested Quinn on the log roll bet and knocked her off the log and into the river - on Quinn's birthday no less - that set Quinn's jaw against Santana. It seemed from day one, or day thirty, Quinn was more interested in keeping an eye on her, than becoming friends.

Alex Pierce arrived every Friday with the week's papers. Santana was eager for news, once she learned her father was in Italy, with the 45th Infantry Division as a combat medic. She knew he was disappointed he wasn't assigned as a doctor in the field hospital, even if he never said. The boys called him "Doc", no matter what his rank, when he tended to them at the front. He wrote about that with pride, and kept the letters bright and hopeful. His letters were in stark contrast to news coming out of Italy. It was fierce battles and slow pushes from Sicily then to the Italian mainland. Santana wrote to him about her work and life at Pierce Lumber. She told him about Rachel and her impromptu monologues and theater song outbursts. She told him how Marley shared cooking duties with Tina and Mercedes on the weekends. How Blaine and Kurt would take Quinn and Rachel into town to shop. How Burt looked over all of them, as if they were his own kin.

She wrote to him about Brittany. How she became a good friend. How Brittany taught her how to swing an axe and how to climb a tree. She told him how Brittany was patient and kind and never treated her as less than anyone else. Sometimes she felt Brittany treated her better.

Santana didn't write in detail about Brittany in her letters. She didn't tell her father about the talks on the roof or the common bathing. How Santana chanced more peeks in the shower, that created a thrill and a pang of guilt at the same time. Or how Brittany's smile would enter her dreams in the middle of the night. She didn't talk about the care Brittany took to make sure Santana was comfortable. The ironic thing was, the more Brittany doted on Santana, the more uncomfortable Santana became. It was the discomfort of warm flush and ticklish nerves. All expressed in blushed cheeks and shy eye contact. It was just how Brittany looked at her, that set Santana off-kilter. Those oh so blue eyes saw something in Santana and Santana felt it. But couldn't for the life of her figure out what Brittany saw. She also didn't dare ask. It was scary to think about. So Santana pushed those thoughts away. Yet Santana sought out that happy, scary, uncomfortable feeling as often as she could. And secretly delighted when Brittany was just as often seeking her out, wanting to spend time with her, and only her. It felt delightfully covert. Something she never wanted to share. For Santana, talking to anyone about Brittany felt like telling secrets.

Brittany always seemed to be with her at the fire ring, when all the others had retired for the night. It turned into a weekly ritual. Every Friday night, they were left alone to watch the fire die to orange embers. Brittany would bring two beers and always offer Santana one. Santana always declined. They talked about the war, news of friends lost, their childhoods, the logging crew. It never got too personal. Santana wouldn't allow it. Somehow in her silence when Brittany asked something a little too close, a little too personal, a little too much about feelings, Santana would shut down the conversation. It frustrated Brittany to no end, but it never stopped her from trying. She came back to the fire ring week after week, and Santana would wait for her there.

* * *

The women, Burt, Kurt and Blaine drove to the mill office every Saturday for their pay. They hadn't seen Karofsky and Puck's crew for a month, but this day, the men walked in just as Alex Pierce praised the women.

"You ladies are doing a great job. Your crew is half the size of our long loggers, yet your producing half of what they cut. In just three months! I'm very impressed," Alex commended.

"Burt and Brittany, Kurt and Blaine should get the credit Mr. Pierce. They're great teachers," Rachel replied.

"You all get the credit. Because of all of you, we'll make our quota again this month," Alex said with a smile.

The women signed the account book for their pay. Everyone picked up their checks except Tina, Mercedes and Santana. Mr. Pierce set their money aside in his safe.

Brittany leaned into Santana's ear. "I thought Burt dropped you off at the bank last month to open an account?"

Santana shook her head. "Decided against it. So I joined him at the general store to put in the order for Mercedes' new pants."

"Why?" Brittany whispered.

Santana shrugged her off.

The women walked out with Burt, Kurt and Blaine and talked about their plans for that afternoon. Karofsky, Puck and two other men followed them to the mill yard.

"Sounds like you got your pop snowed Brat," Karofsky mocked.

Brittany set her jaw and turned to meet him. "Snowed? Please David, get your fat head out of your ass. Pop's looking at the numbers, and guess what? The numbers add up to my crew doing as much work or more per person than yours," Brittany said with a smug smirk.

"Bullshit," Karofsky scoffed.

Brittany raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Wanna bet?"

"Brittany..." Burt whispered.

Brittany turned and gave him a wink.

"I'm tired of taking all Burt's money. I think it's about time we take some of yours," Brittany said to Karofsky. "Your quota, cut in half. We make it, it's a day's wages from each of you if we win," Brittany offered.

"Two days wages from you when you don't make it and we win, so all my guys get some," Karofsky replied.

Brittany looked over at her crew. Burt had his hand covering his face. Kurt and Blaine looked at eachother then nodded firmly to Brittany. Brittany looked to Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Mercedes, and Santana. Rachel and Quinn grinned immediately. Mercedes looked at Karofsky, narrowed her eyes and gave Brittany the nod as did Tina. When Brittany's eyes met Santana's, she saw they were full of mischief and bravado. Santana eyed Karofsky, then turned her gaze to Brittany. "Definitely," Santana replied.

"You got a deal David. Though, you sure those boys of yours will want to part with their money? I know they're spending most of it at the bar. That's less whiskey to drink," Brittany suggested.

"Never going to happen Brat. No way I'm having two girls, two pansies, a gimp, a nigger, a spic, a jap, and especially _you_, top me," Karofsky sneered.

Burt and his clenched fists took a step toward Karofsky.

"I wouldn't mind a girl topping me," Puck said, as he waggled his eyebrows at Rachel and Quinn.

They both turned their noses up at him.

Brittany took two steps, grabbed Karofsky's ear and yanked his head to her level.

"Ow! Fuck! Let me go!" Karofsky yelped.

Brittany's free hand grabbed Karofsky's other ear. She quietly hissed in his ear.

"You disrespect my crew again, I will string you up by your pea-sized balls and leave you for the fucking mountain lions, you sack of shit. Their names are Rachel, Quinn, Santana, Mercedes, Tina, Burt, Kurt and Blaine. Commit them to memory, you ignorant asshole, because they will be the ones taking your _fucking_ money," Brittany threatened and released him with a shove.

Karofsky left with Puck and the other two men, rubbing his ears in a huff.

"I'm going to go talk to Alex. You head back to camp. I'll be along with the truck to give you lift the rest of the way," Burt instructed and walked back to the office.

Brittany, Kurt and Blaine led the group back into the woods. Brittany hung back to walk with Santana.

"So what happened at the bank?" Brittany asked quietly.

Santana looked ahead and pursed her lips.

"Nothing," she replied.

"I don't believe you," Brittany argued.

Santana shrugged and walked ahead to join Mercedes.

Burt picked up the logging crew a mile up river. They all piled in the back, and Burt motioned for Brittany to sit up front with him.

"I looked at the numbers," Burt began. "For us to win the bet, we have to add 10 more trees a day to our quota for the next 20 days."

"That's only a little more than one tree a person. We got this Burt," Brittany smiled.

"The crew is already working long days, and they're working fast as it is," Burt frowned.

"We can work some on Saturdays. We did that in June to make that quota," Brittany reminded.

Burt nodded. "You think they want to win the bet that much?"

"I _know_ they do. You weren't there when Karofsky met them on their first day in the office. He was the same asshole he was today. They're going to love taking his money," Brittany assured him.

* * *

The afternoon was spent playing cards and getting ready for Mercedes' birthday party. Marley baked the cake. Tina cooked the dinner. The rest of the women and Kurt and Blaine strategized how they would win the bet against Karofsky's crew.

"He's such an ass," Quinn said as she stubbed out her cigarette.

"Vile is more like it," Rachel added.

"Why isn't he over there fighting with the rest of our boys?" Mercedes asked.

"Shit knees," Brittany replied. "He couldn't pass training. Too much marching and running."

"Is that why he's so angry every time we see him?" Santana asked.

"He's always been like that," Kurt answered. "Known him...three years? Has it been three years Brittany?"

Brittany nodded.

"He's been a bully for that long at least," Blaine added.

"You've put up with that name-calling all those years? I'm so sorry," Rachel said, and put her hand on top of Kurt's.

"You know what they say, 'Sticks and stones may break your bones...'" Kurt said in a sing song voice.

"But words can break your heart," Santana whispered under her breath.

Only Kurt and Brittany, who flanked Santana on either side of the kitchen table heard her. Kurt patted her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic smile. Brittany's hand slid to Santana's knee and she gave it a squeeze. Santana's breath hitched at the touch of Brittany's warm hand. She was having these little "thrill" moments around Brittany more and more often. It unnerved her immediately after it excited her. She excused herself from the table and walked toward the river.

Santana wasn't back when dinner was ready. Brittany went to find her. Tina promised to save them plates. Brittany walked down to the river and found Santana sitting on a flat rock, looking out across the river.

"Dinner's ready," Brittany announced quietly.

Santana turned to her with a weak smile and nodded. "I'll be up in a bit."

"Tina's saving us plates. No rush," Brittany said as she sat down and joined Santana. "You get called names a lot?" Brittany asked.

"Most of my life," Santana replied matter-of-factly.

"Like what Karofsky called you?" Brittany broached.

"Oh that one's old news," Santana chuckled.

"Still isn't right," Brittany lamented.

Santana shrugged. "It is what it is."

They sat in silence for a minute.

"I don't like it when others get called names. I can take it, but..." Santana's voice faded.

"But what?" Brittany asked.

"I don't know. It just really got under my skin when Karofsky started shooting his mouth off at our crew," Santana said, her jaw clenched remembering the moment.

"Our crew," Brittany smiled. "It's good to hear you say that," she said with a nudge to Santana's shoulder.

Santana shoved back playfully.

"What..um...what Karofsky said...about Kurt and Blaine. What he called them..." Santana hedged.

Brittany nodded and waited for the question. Santana worked her way up to it.

"Is that why they came to work on your crew? Because he was giving them a hard time?"

"Yeah, David and a bunch of the other guys just harassed the shit out of Kurt and Blaine. They got beat up and bullied all day, everyday. They stood up for themselves, but eventually it got too much. Actually, I think it got too much for them a long time ago, but they never had a choice. They didn't have anywhere else to go for work, so they stayed and put up with it. So when Burt and I started this crew, they volunteered immediately," Brittany explained.

"I'm glad they did," Santana replied.

"Me too."

"Is it true? What he said?" Santana asked in a whisper.

"What do you think?" Brittany asked in return.

"I...I don't know. I've never met a..a _homosexual_ before," Santana replied like she spoke of a leper.

Brittany chuckled. "Jesus Santana, you talk like they're murderers or something. I'm sure you've met some before. They're just not going to go around talking about it and holding hands."

"But it's a sickness. They need treatment. My father's medical books talk about therapy and..."

"Since when is love a sickness?" Brittany interjected.

Santana shut her mouth and sat quietly, and thought about what Brittany said.

"So they are?" Santana asked.

"Not my place to say," Brittany replied. "But you think about it. You eat with them and work all day with them. They seem sick to you?"

"Well, no, but..."

"But nothing. That's all you need to know," Brittany replied and got up. "Come on, our dinner's cold and we have to get Mercedes good and drunk tonight." Brittany said, holding out her hand.

Santana took the helping hand up and Brittany laced her fingers through Santana's as they walked back to camp. Santana looked down at their hands and smiled. The warmth of that smile spread to her chest, then down to her stomach, and nagged her. Her palms perspired. Or was that Brittany's sweaty hand? As they neared the clearing of camp, Santana pulled her hand away and wiped her clammy palm on her hip. She smiled quickly as she approached the group and sat back down next to Kurt.

Mercedes birthday party quickly turned raucous. Too many beers and not enough restraint led Quinn to beat everyone at poker and Rachel to promptly ruined the cards by spilling her beer on the deck. Mercedes gave Tina an impromptu piggy back ride that resulted the pair ending up on the ground in fits of giggles. Brittany played jacks with Marley near the fire pit and Marley won every game. Santana watched them laugh and play from her seat next to Kurt and Blaine. When Kurt and Blaine started to sing Fred Astaire's "Top Hat", all the individual hijinx ended and Rachel and Santana joined in to sing. Quinn, Brittany, Tina and Mercedes jumped up and danced in the clearing; a drunken sloppy, yet admirable effort at tap dancing on dirt and pine needles. Blaine, Kurt and Santana helped them along by smacking their hands in time on the tables. Quinn, Mercedes and Tina finished the song tripped up and hanging off each other. Brittany stood, smiling and winded, with her hands on her hips. Santana couldn't help but smile at Brittany backlit by the fire, as she blew a strand of hair out of face and giggled at Tina helping a very drunk Mercedes toward the bunkhouse. Rachel followed to help.

"I'm done," Quinn announced as she flopped down next to Santana, breaking Santana out of her Brittany gaze.

"You had a full night," Santana laughed, as Quinn's head lolled to one side.

"I beat you in poker," Quinn slurred.

"Yes, yes you did. Fair and square," Santana smiled.

Quinn nodded, and looked at the bunkhouse with a squint. "I thought it was closer."

"The beer makes it look farther. You'll be fine. Steady steps," Santana encouraged, giving Quinn a hand as she stood up.

Santana watched as Quinn took a few steps, wavered, then continued her walk to the bunkhouse.

"I won't wait up for you," Quinn called over her shoulder, and loosely waved her arm in Santana's direction.

Santana looked over at Kurt and Blaine. Kurt slept on Blaine's shoulder and smiled.

"I'm going to get him to bed," Blaine said.

He got Kurt up, and half carried, half walked him to their cabin. Santana watched them leave then turned her glance back to Brittany who still stood by the fire, watching her.

"Hey," Brittany said, her voice gravelly with beer and cigarettes and singing.

"Hey," Santana said with a soft smile.

"You tired too?" Brittany asked.

"No. You?"

Brittany shook her head and held out two beer bottles.

"Where were you hiding those?" Santana asked, as she got up to join Brittany by the fire.

Brittany just smiled and shrugged. She offered Santana a beer like always, but to her surprise, Santana took it and sat down next to her at the fire. Brittany raised her eyebrows in question.

"What?" Santana asked with a knowing smile.

"Nothing," Brittany replied, as she sipped her beer.

"Was a good night," Santana sighed.

Brittany nodded.

"Good crew," Santana continued.

"Good friends," Brittany added.

Santana smiled and tapped her beer bottle to Brittany's. "To good friends."

Brittany sipped her beer and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered Santana one. They sat and drank and smoked for a few minutes in silence. They both just stared into the fire.

"Want to tell me about the bank now?" Brittany quietly asked.

"Not really," Santana sighed.

"But we're friends. _Good_ friends. That's what friends do, you know. Tell each other things, even if it's hard," Brittany replied.

Santana looked at Brittany and her sympathetic face. Santana took another drag of her cigarette and a swig of beer.

"They wouldn't let me open an account," Santana confessed.

"Why not?" Brittany asked.

Santana looked at Brittany then gestured to her own face and body.

"I doubt Mr. Henderson would deny you an account for being too pretty," Brittany teased.

"Brittany..." Santana said with disappointment at her ill timed compliment.

"Sorry," Brittany replied with an apologetic smile. "So Henderson was an asshole and didn't want to open an account for you, 'cause your skin is a few shades browner than mine."

"Pretty much, yes," Santana replied.

"What did he say?" Brittany pressed.

"That I needed a male relative to co-sign for me," Santana replied.

"But he knows you all aren't from around here," Brittany argued.

Santana gave her a knowing look.

"Oh," Brittany sighed, then gritted her teeth.

"Fuck him," Brittany said as she flicked her cigarette butt into the fire. "Your money is as green as anybody's."

"It's fine. Your father is keeping my pay in his safe, and he's wiring money to Tina and Mercedes' families for them as well," Santana explained.

"Pop should threaten to take his business elsewhere, the way Henderson treated you," Brittany complained.

"Is there another bank in town?" Santana asked, knowing the answer.

Brittany paused then sighed. "No," she grumbled.

"So he works around it. Which helps us, so leave it. Okay?" Santana asked, turning her head to catch Brittany's eye.

"Okay?" Santana repeated.

Brittany looked over and her frown turned into a half smile. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."

Brittany got up and walked to the kitchen cabin. She returned with two more beers. Santana took the offered beer with a smile. They sat in silence for minutes more. Brittany poked at the dying fire with a stick.

"So why did you decide to drink tonight?" Brittany asked.

Santana shrugged. "I figured one or two beers couldn't hurt."

"Have they hurt before?" Brittany asked.

Santana shook her head. "Sort of. No, not really."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you did when you drank?" Brittany asked.

Santana thought about it. She hadn't _done_ anything while she drank. It was the thoughts that entered her head when her mind was loose with alcohol.

"You?" Santana asked.

Brittany paused. She inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath. She took a few gulps of her beer.

"I was 16. Just a couple months before they closed the school, and me and some friends were playing Spin the Bottle. You know that game?"

Santana nodded. "Never played, but yes, I know it," she said with a smile.

"It was my first time. My first spin, I had to kiss this boy with the worst breath," Brittany recalled, scrunching up her nose.

Santana stuck out her tongue in a playful grimace.

"Then the quarterback of the football team spun and it landed on me. I had such a crush on him, but he shoved his tongue in my mouth. It was awful," Brittany laughed. "That crush was done then and there."

"I bet," Santana chuckled. "That all sounds quite embarrassing."

"That's not the embarrassing part," Brittany replied quietly.

Brittany took several more gulps of her beer.

"I spun the bottle again, and it landed on the girl next to me."

"So you spun again," Santana replied, waiting for Brittany to continue the story.

Brittany shook her head. "I didn't know you could skip. Before anyone could say anything, I kissed her."

"On the lips?" Santana asked in a shocked whisper.

Brittany nodded. They sat in silence for a minute. Brittany nervously, waiting for Santana's reply. Santana took several sips of her beer.

"What was it like?" Santana asked with honest curiosity.

"Soft. Sweet. Just..." Brittany confessed quietly. Wistfully. "She was so embarrassed, she immediately left the party. I ran after her to apologize, but she wouldn't talk to me. The next day, it was all over school. How I kissed a girl. How I was too stupid to know better. How I liked kissing her more than the boys. I lost all my friends after that. No one would talk to me. Not one of them. It was all whispers and gossip and just...just mean. The one good thing about school closing down. I didn't have to go through that everyday anymore."

"Britt...I'm so sorry," Santana said.

She put her hand on Brittany's shoulder. She rubbed her thumb lightly over the swell of her shoulder where it met her arm. Santana slid her hand off Brittany and took a few swallows of her beer and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I've thought about it before," Santana said cryptically as she stared at the fire.

"What?" Brittany asked.

Santana didn't answer. She just looked at her and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Ohhh!" Brittany replied as she realized what Santana was referring to. "Really? When?" Brittany whispered with more hope in her voice than she meant to convey.

"Sitting around the bonfire on the beach back home. I had a few beers. I was tipsy. One of the guys brought his new girlfriend around to join us," Santana explained.

Santana took another gulp of beer and lit another cigarette. Brittany impatiently waited for Santana to continue.

"She was...she was beautiful," Santana said with a nervous chuckle. "And I. I don't know what happened. But it just popped in my head, you know? I just really wanted to know what it would be like...to...to kiss her," she whispered her confession.

Santana didn't look at Brittany, but she could feel her eyes on her. The confession was a relief and a source of new anxiety. She quickly amended her statement.

"I know it was the alcohol. Makes you think crazy things," she said, again with a nervous chuckle.

Brittany stared at Santana in attempt to will her to look her way, but Santana was nothing if not stubborn.

"It relaxes you. It loosens you. It can make you happy. It can make you sad," Brittany explained. "Alcohol doesn't make you crazy, and you know it." Brittany gently countered.

Santana bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes with a sense of sad resignation.

"You're not crazy to wonder," Brittany whispered. "It's not crazy at all."

Brittany reached out and tucked a stray hair over Santana's ear. Santana sank into her hand then straightened up.

"I should go to bed," Santana said as she stood. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Brittany said with disappointment as Santana left.

That night Santana woke up from a disturbingly wonderful dream. She sat up and tried to calm herself. Her heart beat like a hummingbird's wings. Her lips tingled. How could they? It was only a dream. But every physical sensation of warmth and flutters and happiness and excitement and contentedness and bliss lingered still. Santana fell asleep thinking about Kurt and Blaine and what Brittany had said by the fire. She thought about what she knew of homosexuals, and had to admit, she knew nothing. Nothing beyond the words "unnatural" and "sin" and "illness". But then Brittany's words crept into her head. _Love_. _Relaxed_. _Wonder_. _Not crazy_. Santana only knew the love of her father, and that felt nothing like what she woke up feeling from that dream. She felt affection for her crew mates. She felt protective of them, especially now in light of Karofsky's name-calling. She felt that for Brittany as well, but she had not dreamed of Mercedes or Tina or Rachel or Quinn as she dreamed of Brittany that night. Santana replayed in her head, all the lovely compliments Brittany spoke to her over the past four months. The feeling of her hands on Santana's hips and arms and the touch of her fingers through her hair. It was all painfully wonderful, and Santana was at a loss as to what to do about it.

* * *

One week into the quota competition with the long loggers, Brittany and Burt's crew kept a steady, fast pace, and logged the extra timber they needed. With a week to go, Blaine and Kurt started their shift early, to insure they'd have not only half the long loggers' quota, but a little more as a buffer.

Santana had just bussed her breakfast plates when Kurt came running into the camp.

"Get the doctor!" he gasped.

Burt got up and rushed to the truck.

"What happened?" Brittany asked.

"A chunk of wood kicked up and hit his eye. His fingers. They're gone. There's blood, and..." Kurt said, ashen and out of breath.

Rachel got up and put her arm around his shoulder.

"Where is he now?" Quinn asked.

"Still out there. I told him not to move. That I'd get help," Kurt wheezed.

Santana got up and went to the kitchen.

"Marley, I need the med kit," Santana demanded.

Marley pulled it from a shelf. Santana opened it and checked the gauze, tape and scissors. She rifled through the box some more and huffed.

"I need..." Santana said to herself as she scanned the contents of the kitchen.

She spied a set of measuring spoons hung up near the stove.

"Give me the tablespoon," Santana commanded.

Marley swiftly unlinked it from its ring and handed it to Santana. Santana thumbed over it in her hand.

"That'll do," she said and threw it in the box.

Marley looked at her confused, but Santana just turned around and left. Santana found Brittany and Rachel soothing Kurt out at the kitchen table.

"Let's go," Santana said, medical kit in hand.

Brittany instructed the others to start work, then followed Kurt and Santana into the woods to find Blaine.

"You should go too Brittany," Santana said.

"You don't want me to come?" Brittany asked, a little hurt in her voice.

"Burt's gone for the doctor, we've lost Blaine for the day. Probably more. You won't have me or Kurt for a while, and I'm not giving Karofsky one cent of my money. Are you?" Santana explained.

Brittany sighed and shook her head.

"Then go. We'll meet up with you later," Santana offered, and they parted ways.

Kurt lead Santana into the forest and eventually to Blaine, who they found sitting on a log, his left hand gripped by his right, wrapped in his torn left work shirt sleeve. Dried blood caked his cheek. He sat slumped over and quiet.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Kurt whispered to Santana as they approached Blaine.

Santana pursed her lips and nodded. "I know enough."

Santana knelt down in front of Blaine and gently removed his right hand from his injured left and unwrapped the bandage.

"Jesus," she whispered as she saw his pinky and ring finger missing at the second knuckle.

She wrapped tape tightly around his fingers just below the amputations.

"Sulfa Kurt," she instructed, with her hand held out.

Kurt rifled through the medical kit and found packets marked "Sulfanilamide".

Santana poured the powder on the stubs of Blaine's fingers, wrapped them with clean gauze and taped them together.

"Hold this above your head," Santana instructed.

Blaine weakly raised his hand. Kurt reached out and held it up for him. Santana gave him a quick nod of thanks.

Santana next drew her attention to his eye. She hissed and grimaced at the damage. A tiny splinter of wood pierced his eyelid.

"Keep your eyes closed," Santana instructed, and Blaine obeyed. "Is the wood scratching your eye?" Santana asked.

Blaine nodded, "I think it's stuck in it."

"Okay. Burt went to get the doctor. I'm going bandage your eyes," Santana explained.

"Both?" Kurt asked.

Santana nodded. "If they're both bandaged, you don't move your eyes as much. And the last thing we need is Blaine moving his left eye."

Santana took out the tablespoon and placed it over Blaine's injured eye.

"It's not pressing on the splinter is it?" Santana asked.

"No," Blaine answered.

Kurt handed Santana the tape and she secured the tablespoon to Blaine's face. Kurt handed her the gauze and she wadded up a pad for his right eye, then wrapped a few bands of gauze around his head.

"I can't see a thing," Blaine complained.

"That's the point," Santana replied dryly, and patted him on the knee. "Come on, let's get you back to camp," Santana said, as she and Kurt helped Blaine to his feet.

Santana and Kurt lead Blaine back to camp, just as Burt drove up with the town doctor.

"He'll need to go to the hospital," Santana suggested.

The doctor looked at the state of Blaine's bandages and turned to Kurt.

"Nice job on the dressing," he praised.

"Don't thank me, she did it," he said, pointing to Santana.

The doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Pinky and ring finger amputated at the middle knuckle. Wood splinter pierced his eye and is scratching his cornea," Santana explained. "Tourniquet and sulfa applied to his hand."

The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, nodded and led Blaine to Burt's idling truck. They quickly disappeared down the logging road and out of sight. Kurt leaned on Santana, his face pale. Santana looped her arm around his back and helped him to the kitchen benches.

"Marley! Juice please!" Santana called.

Marley arrived with a jug of apple juice and a tin cup. Santana poured a cupful and put it to Kurt's lips.

"Drink this. You'll feel better," Santana encouraged. "Don't faint on me Kurt."

"I won't. I'm not. I don't think," Kurt said after a few gulps of juice. "Sorry, I just...a little overwhelmed."

"And scared," Santana added.

Kurt looked at her and pulled his lips into his mouth.

"It's okay to be scared Kurt. He's your, your best friend, right?" Santana comforted.

Kurt nodded and gave her a tight lipped smile. "The best of best friends," he replied.

"Well he'll be in good hands at the hospital. Burt will make sure of that. He'll be back and good as new before you know it," she reassured.

"Minus some fingers and probably an eye," Kurt complained.

"He can swing an axe and use a chainsaw without those two fingers," Santana replied.

"And his eyesight?" Kurt asked.

"He'll adjust," Santana explained. "It'll take time, but he'll adjust. Our bodies are pretty amazing. They can work around a lot of obstacles."

"Thank you Santana. I wouldn't have known what to do," Kurt confessed.

"Good thing I paid attention to my father while I could," Santana smiled. "Come on, let's get back to work, or we'll be dealing with Karofsky winning in a week."

"That's an injury almost worse than Blaine's," Kurt grumbled.

"Exactly," Santana said and pulled him up from the bench.

* * *

"IF YOU SO MUCH AS _THINK_ ABOUT TAKING YOUR SAFETY GLASSES OFF WHILE YOU'RE STILL IN THIS WORK SITE, SO HELP ME TO _FUCKING_ GOD I WILL FUCKING STICK YOU IN THE EYE _MYSELF_! ARE WE CLEAR?" Brittany yelled.

Everyone nodded and focused on their work.

"I think they're clear all the way up in Canada, Brittany," Santana said as she returned to the logging crew.

"How's Blaine?" Brittany asked.

"At the hospital. He's down two fingers and he's probably blind in one eye," Santana replied. "Well, half of two fingers. So one finger all together I guess."

"That's not funny Santana," Brittany frowned.

"You deal with Blaine's accident by yelling at them. I'll deal with bandaging chewed up bloody stumps of fingers my way. Fair enough?" Santana answered and walked away.

An hour passed and while the girls took a short break, Brittany went looking for Santana. Brittany found her, hidden behind an old fallen tree, wiping her face. Santana had vomited her breakfast.

"What happened?" Brittany asked.

She placed her hand on Santana's back.

"Adrenaline happened," Santana dismissed.

"I don't understand?" Brittany replied.

"My body was so stressed dealing with Blaine. Stressed to get the job done. Stressed to stay calm. It all kind of backs up and, well, overwhelms me. Losing my breakfast is the result I'm afraid," Santana explained as she leaned against the tree.

"You were scared?" Brittany asked in disbelief.

"Of course I was scared," Santana said with a chuckled.

"But you knew what you were doing," Brittany reasoned.

"Sort of, yeah. Doesn't mean it's not scary though. I'm calm in the moment, but then once whatever scary thing happened is done, it all comes rushing out, my legs turn to jelly and I throw up," Santana admitted.

"You don't have to hold it in all the time," Brittany replied.

"But if I let it all out, I'm afraid I won't know how to stop it," Santana replied.

"You don't have to," Brittany reasoned.

* * *

They worked 12 hour days and all Saturday to meet their goal. Blaine returned three days later with a bandaged, swollen hand and a patch over his left eye. Brittany started with the pirate jokes, and by the end of the week, all the girls were threatening to get Blaine a parrot.

Even without Blaine, they cut just over half of the long loggers' quota for September. On October 1st, Burt, Brittany and Kurt walked into the mill office and handed over their count to Alex Pierce. Puck and a few other men milled around inside the office.

"You beat your quota by 25%," Alex said as he looked over the paperwork. "Even without Blaine. Those women are something else, eh Burt?"

"Work harder than any crew I've known," Burt said with pride.

Brittany looked over at Puck with a smug smile. Puck grimaced. She gestured for him to follow her outside.

"Where's Karofsky?" Brittany asked Puck as they walked through the mill yard.

"Not feeling well," Puck replied with an eye roll.

"Uh huh. David was dumb enough to bet half your quota, not half of what you actually cut. He could only hope we didn't make it. He couldn't do anything about it." Brittany replied with a smirk. "He's got a case of sore loser."

"He's gonna. When I come back without the money, he's going to lose his mind. And I may be sore, along with most of the boys, handing you this money," Puck said as he pulled a thick envelope out of his back pocket. "But I can admit when I'm beat."

Brittany took the envelope and slipped it in her back pocket without opening it.

"Not gonna count it?" Puck asked.

"You know me better than that Puck. And I know you better than that. It ain't short," Brittany replied.

"So what you gals going to do with all that money?" Puck asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's up to them," Brittany said with a shrug. "Whatever it is, we're not telling you," she smiled.

"You're a tease Brittany Pierce," Puck called after her as she walked away.

"And you wouldn't have it any other way Noah Puckerman!" Brittany replied over her shoulder.

That night they celebrated their win with beer and singing and dancing. The night was filled with bravado and self congratulations on a well-won bet. As the evening wore on, Quinn, Mercedes, Tina and Rachel sang big band numbers as Blaine and Kurt, Brittany and Santana danced near the fire. Santana was giddy with the triumph over Karofsky and plain joyful dancing with Brittany. Brittany swept Santana up in a jitter bug, and spun her until she was dizzy. Santana could not ignore how Brittany made her feel. Every time she was near Brittany, she felt warm. Soft. Restless. Content.

Santana couldn't remember the last time she felt as happy. Nearly five months ago, she thought she was sentenced to a damp, wooded prison. Instead, she started to realize it was a place where she was free from judgement, free from that world and free to start being herself. Santana began to feel the contentment of a life found and the excitement of finding out what that life would be. It felt like a great new adventure.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I think you're going to like this one :)

* * *

**CHAPTER 6**

**Late October-Mid November 1943**

"I'm heading to the store. Who wants to come?" Brittany asked.

She looked over at Santana, who gave her an apologetic smile and a small shake of her head. Mercedes and Tina mimicked her.

"I'll go," Quinn replied as she got up.

"Rachel?" Brittany asked. Rachel declined. 'Okay then, we'll be back soon," she said with a wave and a jingle of the truck keys in her hand.

Brittany and Quinn entered the general store and Quinn began to browse. Brittany picked up the crate of Rainier and placed it next to the counter.

"Nothing like a cold beer after a week of hard work," the store owner remarked.

"That's for sure Mrs. J," Brittany replied as she returned to the aisles.

Brittany looked through the socks and work gloves.

"When are you getting the thicker ones in?" Brittany asked.

"Next week. Got some fleece lined gloves and some new wool socks they say won't itch," Mrs. J replied.

"I'll tell Burt. We'll be putting in an order for Winter gear. The gals don't fit in most of the boys' old stuff," Brittany explained.

Quinn perused the hatpins near the counter as Brittany tried on pairs of work gloves.

"How are you today Miss Fabray? We got some new pins in just this week," Mrs. J offered.

"Mmm," Quinn hummed as she picked out three to inspect.

"Must be tough, living up there with...the _others_," Mrs. J commented quietly.

"It's different," Quinn casually replied, still looking at the pins.

"I don't think I could do it," Mrs. J grimaced.

"Logging isn't for everyone. If it wasn't to support our boys..." Quinn replied with a sigh.

Mrs. J nodded in understanding.

"Dave Karofsky was in here just the other week in a such a snit about those girls. He's convinced they cheated on whatever little game you were playing up there."

Quinn gave her a conspiratorial smile. "I don't cheat Mrs. Johanssen."

"Oh of course not. I wasn't talking about _you_," she clarified.

Quinn politely nodded. Brittany returned to the counter with a new pair of gloves.

"Those look too big for you Brittany," Quinn chuckled.

"They're for Blaine. I was going to cut down the two fingers, so they don't get in his way when he works," Brittany explained.

"That's our Brittany. Always buying for others," Mrs. J smiled.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Hatpins? Really Quinn? When you going to use those?" Brittany teased.

Quinn shrugged. "I like nice things."

"So do I," Brittany said. "But not like you get much use out of them up here."

"I'm not going to be stuck out here forever," Quinn replied.

Brittany paid for the beer and gloves. Quinn bought two hatpins.

"See you next week Mrs. J!" Brittany said as they left the general store.

"Bye girls!" Mrs. J replied.

Halfway through the drive back to the logging camp, Brittany spoke up.

"You really feel _stuck _up here?" she asked.

"Just looking forward to getting back to a normal life," Quinn replied.

"What's normal?" Brittany asked.

Quinn didn't reply.

* * *

Back at camp, the crew relaxed in their bunkhouse. The woodfire stove crackled with warmth. Mercedes tucked a letter away in her foot locker. Tina wrote her family. Rachel read a book. Santana, wrapped up in a blanket, read a letter from her father. Brittany read a magazine.

Quinn finished reading a letter she received and crumpled it up with a huff.

"Bad news?" Rachel asked.

Quinn shook her head. "Just..._disappointing_," she replied, stiffening her back and her resolve.

"Anything we can help with?" Mercedes asked.

Quinn shook her head. Santana could feel the tension rising from Quinn. It put her on edge.

Santana slipped on her jacket and buttoned it up. "I'm feeling cooped up," Santana complained as she slipped on her shoes.

Santana walked out the door and into the cool Fall air. She stood outside the bunkhouse and breathed in the smells of the forest. The forest floor was now littered with a colorful palette of fallen leaves mixed in with the pine needles. Red, yellow, orange and browns crunched under her feet as she walked down to the stream and over to the clearing near the stables. Buster snorted and wisps of his warm breath clouded in the air. Santana put her hands in her jacket pockets and closed it tight around her.

"You two going to be warm enough out here?" she asked them.

Charlie looked at her and blinked his big brown eyes.

"They never talked to me either," Brittany said from behind.

"Jesus Britt! You scared me," Santana gasped.

"Sorry," Brittany replied with a sheepish smile.

"You felt cooped up too?" Santana asked.

"Not really," Brittany said with a smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

Santana warmed with the realization that Brittany just wanted to spend time with her. Alone. She bit her bottom lip and tried to think of something to say. Nothing. Her mind raced but no coherent sentences formed.

"Uh, how..." Santana began.

"How's your..." Brittany said at the same time.

Santana chuckled. "I"m sorry."

"No, no I'm sorry. You were going to say something?" Brittany asked.

Santana shook her head. "You first," she smiled while internally kicked herself really, really hard.

"I was going to ask how is your dad? That letter was from him, right?"

"Yes. He's good. They're in Italy now. Salerno," Santana recalled.

"Wait, I read about that in the paper. Tough going," Brittany said sympathetically.

"Yeah. He tried to sound cheerful, but I could tell. He's seen a lot of death. A lot of wounded," Santana sadly replied.

"I'm sorry he has to see that. But I'm glad he's there for our boys," Brittany comforted. "And I know they're grateful for him too," she added.

Santana smiled and nodded. "As long as he stays safe." Santana said.

"He will," Brittany assured her.

Brittany put her arm around Santana's shoulder and pulled her into her side. She rubbed her hand down Santana's arm. Back and forth. For comfort. It almost distracted Santana from the feeling of her left shoulder pressed into Brittany's breast. Almost.

"So what were you going to ask me?" Brittany asked as she loosened her grip.

God, if Santana only could remember.

"Um..." Santana thought for a moment.

_Think, think, think!_

"How was town?" Santana finally asked with a relieved sigh.

"Fine. Picked up beer for tonight. Quinn bought hat pins."

"What's tonight?" Santana asked.

"Saturday," Brittany replied.

Santana waited for more. There was nothing more.

"Do you need an excuse more than 'it's the weekend' to drink a beer Santana?" Brittany teased.

"No," Santana chuckled.

"You should come to town next time. You never go," Brittany said. "Maybe you wouldn't feel so cooped up if you left camp more than once."

Brittany watched Santana gaze at her feet for a moment.

"Um, they're not...they're not very nice to me there. Or Mercedes. Or Tina," Santana confessed quietly.

"Just because Henderson's an ass," Brittany argued.

"Mrs. Johanssen too," Santana added.

"She gave you shit?" Brittany asked, wide eyed.

"Didn't say a word to me. Watched me like a hawk when I was in there with Burt," Santana explained. "People. People in town. They look at us different. They're not used to people like us being there. Are they?"

"We've had colored people here before," Brittany replied. "Ever since I was little."

"But did you ever go with them into town?" Santana asked.

Brittany paused and thought. She looked up at the trees, then to her side, then to her feet. She shook her head.

"I know. I'm sorry. You've grown up with them. You. You want to think the best. But...but sometimes. Well, people. _Some_ people. They don't...they don't do well with change," Santana gently explained.

Brittany's shoulders slumped. She kicked at the leaves. She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. Santana thought that was the most kissable lip she had ever seen in her entire 20 years of living. Kissable. Oh no.

"Assholes," Brittany huffed and pulled her lip back in.

Santana missed that pout already.

"Not assholes," Santana soothed.

Brittany gave her a 'are you kidding me?' look.

"Okay, yes. Assholes," Santana smiled. "Look, it's not a big deal. I'm not here to cause any trouble anyway. Nor is Mercedes or Tina. We're here to work. That's it."

"It's not right," Brittany said, straightening up. "Not fucking right," she repeated.

"I don't care, really," Santana assured her.

"That's not the point. And yes, you do," Brittany argued. "And I care too," she said softly.

Brittany held Santana's gaze for a second. Maybe two. Santana looked away and let out the shaky breath she held. Brittany noticed. Brittany smiled.

"What?" Santana asked.

"You," Brittany smiled.

"What about me?" A smile crept across Santana's hopeful face.

Brittany bit her lip and smiled. She shook her head and looked away.

"Just you. Just you," Brittany replied with a sigh.

That sigh. All the shy and awkward and nervous made Santana dare think that Brittany might be as sweet on Santana as Santana was for Brittany. Santana thought back on the entire summer, back to the first day she arrived at the logging company. She had been playing all those little moments in her head for the past five months, but this day, it felt more real.

That night, the beer flowed, songs were sung, dances were danced, but Quinn's mood didn't improve. Her grumpy, foul temper seemed contagious and throughout the following week, patience was short, and tempers flared. Blaine was frustrated with his injuries. He was still learning how to work around them. Rachel returned Quinn's snippy comments with her own brand of know-it-all flare. Quinn rubbed Tina the wrong way and almost got into a fist fight with Mercedes. Quinn checked her attitude for the rest of that day. Mercedes was having none of her shit. The only two Quinn's sour disposition didn't seem to test, was Brittany and Santana.

Despite the few of Quinn's verbal barbs thrown Santana's way, they simply rolled off her back. She was too busy daydreaming about Brittany and their walk in the woods the previous weekend. The only problem was finding out how to make those moments keep happening. Santana spent the the work week scheming on how she could be alone with Brittany more. No matter how many moments she had with her, they were never enough, but they all added up to a wonderfully, thrilling, secret feeling. Secret.

Behind all the sweet smiles and stealthy glances in the shower room, there was the world outside of this camp that she worked hard to forget about. And there was a world inside herself that still told her 'no'. Everything with Brittany felt more flirty, more elicit, more like getting away with something. It was like the thrill of committing a crime, if Santana had ever committed a crime. Her body kept committing crimes against her better judgement. Brittany made her feel soft and hard at the same time. On edge with anticipation and restraint, free with happiness and warmth. Yet Santana tired, exhausted at this push and pull game she played between her body and mind. She didn't know which would win.

Brittany, on the other hand, was clear in her feelings for Santana. Her brain put up much less of a fight. She was well aware she shouldn't want Santana as she did, but that didn't give her much pause. She had the advantage of being around Kurt and Blaine for years. There was a familiarity, a comfort, a 'that's just how it is'. Brittany knew Santana had no such experience. Brittany tried to think back to when she first learned that Kurt and Blaine were more than just friends. She tried to remember how shocked she was. How afraid she was for them if anyone found out. She shuddered cold at the thought. Ever since their conversation about Kurt and Blaine by the river, Brittany watched Santana interact with them. Brittany watched Santana watch them. She treated them no different. Perhaps, maybe, she even engaged in conversation more with them.

Brittany was sure she and Santana could keep it a secret. It. A relationship. Them. Together. A couple. A couple? Brittany allowed that idea to swim around her head. She imagined the cuddling, the kisses, the...Brittany raised an eyebrow surprised at her own thoughts. She needed a plan, if she was going to make any of those thoughts become a reality.

* * *

Alex Pierce announced that all were welcome to celebrate Thanksgiving at his house, but if they had family to go to, they were welcome to take the time off. Mercedes made plans to visit with her aunt and cousins. Tina would return to her parents. Blaine would visit his family. Burt and Kurt were going to Burt's cousin in Tacoma.

Rachel bubbled with excitement. "My Dad's putting on a USO show in Seattle. You _all_ are welcome to attend. Singing, dancing, comedians. It's going to be _amazing_!"

"You spending time with your family Quinn?" Tina asked.

"I have a few dinners to attend," Quinn replied.

"A _few_? Well look at you Miss La-Di-Dah," Mercedes teased.

"Is your father going to be home Santana?" Rachel asked.

Santana shook her head. "No, he's still overseas," she said with a sigh.

"You can come to the show," Rachel suggested. "It's going to be great fun. Lot's a boys home on leave," she teased

Santana smiled. "Thanks, but no. I'll be taking Mr. Pierce up on his offer," she added with a shrug and a smile. "If that's okay with you Brittany?"

"Sure," Brittany grinned. "The more the merrier."

Thursday morning, Burt gave everyone a ride down to the mill. He traded the mill truck in for his own and took everyone but Marley, Brittany and Santana into the city. Santana clutched her overnight bag and stood with Marley as they waited for Brittany to return from the office.

"Brittany told me you have a new dress for dinner tonight," Santana said.

Marley smiled and nodded.

"I haven't worn a dress in so long, I'm not sure if I remember how," Santana joked.

Brittany came bounding down the mill office stairs and greeted Marley and Santana with a wide grin.

"Come on. Let's go up to the house. Pop will be up in a few hours," Brittany explained.

Brittany led Santana and Marley behind the mill and up a small canopied dirt road. It was hardly wide enough for a car. The trees leaned in and created a tunnel, as branches reached across the narrow road to greet another tree. Santana gasped when they reached the small clearing at the end of the windy road. Brittany looked over and smiled. A two-story log cabin, with a stone chimney and foundation appeared like an oasis out of the thick dark woods. The second floor was smaller, and sat on top of the ground floor like the top tier of a square wedding cake.

"You spend all your time living in the woods, with us, when you live _here_?" Santana

exclaimed.

Brittany shrugged. "I like living with you."

Santana smiled wide. "You don't mean that," she said as they walked up to the front door.

"You calling me a liar?" Brittany light-heartedly asked as she opened the door.

"I think I am," Santana said, her mouth agape at the home she just walked into.

Santana walked into the living room, where the large stone hearth fireplace sat on her left, waiting to warm the already warm looking room. A pair of snowshoes and a large axe hung above the mantle. A worn dark green loveseat and two brown easy chairs faced the hearth. A small coffee table was placed between them. Behind the loveseat sat a table top radio on a narrow table. Across from the front door, and across the red and green Indian rug, bookshelves, full of books, pictures and knick knacks lined the entire wall. The pictures had groups of loggers, family photos, and the one that made Santana smile the most was one of Brittany, Alex and Hazel at her hotel. Beautiful woven baskets and little carved totems sat in between novels and photos. To the right, by the east facing windows, a record player sat on an open cabinet full of records. From the open beams hung a small ornate wooden replica canoe collecting dust.

Marley disappeared down the hall behind the fireplace, into the kitchen. Brittany stood quietly at the door, behind Santana and waited for her to take in the room. Santana turned around and let her eyes travel over the open shelves in between the two windows that looked out to where they entered. More books, a stack of records, photos and more indian knick knacks dotted the shelves. Along with a very neglected fern.

"Dad's not the best housekeeper," Brittany said apologetically. "He always forgets to water Fred."

"You named the fern Fred?" Santana asked, her eyes finally falling upon Brittany.

Brittany nodded.

"Of course you did," Santana replied with a smile. "You have a beautiful home Brittany. Just so warm and just...lovely."

"Thanks," Brittany replied. "Great Grandpa Pierce built it with his brother. "Pop was born here. So was I," she smiled. "That axe," she said, pointing to the one on the fireplace, "chopped the logs that make up this house."

"How long has the mill been in your family?" Santana asked.

"Dad is third generation. I'm the fourth," Brittany answered with pride.

"So much history in these walls," Santana mused.

Brittany led Santana into the kitchen, where Marley was taking out the Thanksgiving turkey from it's brining container. Marley placed it in a large roasting pan, wiped her hands on the dish towel tucked in her front pocket, and pointed to the bowl of potatoes.

"Jesus Marley, at least let me get Santana settled in upstairs," Brittany complained good naturedly.

Marley rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Are we boiling or roasting this year?" Brittany asked.

Marley handed her and Santana two knives.

"Roasting. Got it," Brittany replied. "Come on, let me show you to my room," Brittany said as she put down her knife on the long kitchen table.

"I'm staying in your room?" Santana asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, we only have two bedrooms upstairs. Mine and Pop's. So you're bunking with me," Brittany replied and took Santana's hand and led her up the rough hewn log steps.

"I can sleep on the couch," Santana offered.

"It'll be cold as a witch's tit down there tonight. If it get's below 60 you want mittens. So no, you're bunking with me," Brittany replied, pulling Santana up the stairs. "Oh! I forgot you never had sleepovers. That's part of the fun of sleepovers. You get to share!" Brittany brightened.

Brittany opened the door at the top of the steps and stood at the threshold.

"This is Pop's room."

Santana peered in, and saw a double bed with one side neatly made, and the other side not made from this morning.

"He still sleeps on his side," Santana said to herself, yet aloud.

"Yeah," Brittany sighed. "It's been 15 years, but he still won't touch her side of the bed. Sometimes it makes me sad, but mostly I think it's sweet. He still respects her space. He acknowledges her presence, even if she's not physically here."

"That is sweet," Santana agreed.

Brittany walked a few paces down the hall and pushed open her bedroom door opposite her father's.

"It'll be easy for you to respect my space, because I _will_ be here," Brittany joked. "No pressure though."

Santana walked into the room behind Brittany. The beams were full of paper cranes and a kite in the shape of a butterfly.

"We had a Japanese guy work for us for a while. They make animals out of folded paper. It's like magic," Brittany smiled. Brittany took a paper frog out of her vanity drawer and pressed on it's back. It hopped.

"That's amazing," Santana said joyfully, then looked around the room more.

On Brittany's bookshelves, there was a picture of her mother, father and Brittany at age five. Next to the picture were baby shoes and a teddy bear. A picture of Brittany and six other girls in cheerleading uniforms sat next to the bear.

"You look happy," Santana mused.

"I was. I was 15, I think. We just won the championship," Brittany replied.

Santana turned to say something else, but that thought left her, when she saw Brittany sitting on her bed. It was in a window nook. Like a window seat, only big enough for a bed. The ceiling hung lower over her bed than the rest of the room. It was like a cozy hideaway.

"You can put your bag there," Brittany said, pointing to a small closet door.

"Huh? Oh, yes. Right," Santana stammered.

She put her bag down next to the closet door and turned to take in the rest of the room. As long as she didn't look at Brittany on that bed, she thought she'd be fine. Next to the door was the small vanity with a mirror and a few bottles of lotion and a perfume atomizer. A floppy gray women's fedora sat on a stand. Hat pins stuck out askew from a needle cushion. They didn't look like Brittany's style at all.

"They were my Mom's," Brittany offered.

Santana nodded. "She had good taste. They're pretty."

"The hat's mine," Brittany added.

Santana smiled and nodded. It was so very Brittany. Her room and her possessions seemed simple. A few keepsakes, a few childhood mementos, but all in all, the room, Santana thought, was decidedly Brittany. Warm log beamed ceiling and walls. A fluffy, thick white duvet with tiny flowers embroidered across it. No corners to hide behind. Nothing ornate. It was bright, and simple, and warm and a little quirky.

Santana heard the radio turn on downstairs. "Never A Day Goes By" from Perry Como's "On the Radio" show filtered through the house.

"Where will Marley sleep?" Santana asked.

"She has a room off the kitchen. It's an old pantry we don't use anymore. Pop set her up with a bed and night table in there," Brittany explained.

"Kind of like the loft in the kitchen at camp?"

"Yep, a lot like that. She likes to be near the food," Brittany replied.

"Why? Doesn't she get enough of it cooking for us all week?" Santana joked.

"She didn't have much food for a long time. It helps her feel safe," Brittany solemnly said.

"What happened to her? She told me she's been with you two years. Where was she before that?"

Brittany patted the space beside her on the bed. Santana sat on the bed and curled her legs beneath her.

"We don't talk about it, though it's not a secret. Everyone 'round here knows about it. Or _thinks_ they know. The tales they tell..." Brittany said with a shake of her head.

"Well, I'm not from around here," Santana said, encouraging Brittany to tell the story.

"That's a good thing. One of the reasons I like you so much," Brittany replied.

Santana shyly smiled.

"You got to learn how to take a compliment," Brittany teased.

"You got to learn how to tell a story," Santana retorted.

"Right. So about two and half years ago, I was out in the woods a few miles from here. Way up the mountain from where we're working."

"Why?" Santana asked.

"No reason. Seemed like a good idea at the time," Brittany shrugged. "Anyway, I was way up the mountain and I came across a little broken down shack. Didn't look like much more than a hunter's cabin. It had a big dog house too. But that was it. Just nothing. I heard some noise coming from inside before I could get close, so I stayed hidden, crouched down in the woods. That's when I saw her. Marley. She crawled out of the doghouse wearing a metal collar and a chain that was bolted to the the cabin."

"Jesus," Santana gasped. "Like, like a dog?"

Brittany nodded with a frown. "She was half the size she is now, if you can imagine that. Barefoot, dirty, dressed in rags. All torn up and muddy. She went into the cabin, then there was such a ruckus. I could hear a man's voice yelling and cussing at her. Pots and pans banging around."

Santana's hand covered her heart.

"I saw her run out of the shack and the old man came out after her. He didn't touch her though. He just went out back and used the outhouse," Brittany said.

"Who was he?" Santana asked.

"Never knew his name. I don't know if anyone did. He's just 'the old man'. Lived like a hermit in the backwoods for years and years. Since my Pop was little," Brittany explained. "Anyway, that's when I left."

"You _left_?! How could you _leave_ her?" Santana asked.

"Needed to get Burt's bolt cutter," Brittany replied.

Santana nodded with relief.

"I went back the next day. Same time. Sure enough, I watched that asshole walk out of that shack, back to the outhouse, and that's when I went got her. Cut her loose and led her into the woods and back home," Brittany explained. "I could hear him screamin' and hollerin' and putting up such a fuss half way back," Brittany said proudly. "He was so pissed."

"Then what happened?" Santana asked.

"I got her home. Told Pop and Burt. Burt stormed off into the woods and took some of the boys with him. I got Marley all cleaned up and fed and gave her some of my clothes. She thanked me. She told me she'd been with him since she was seven or eight. Her family agreed that he would take her. Take care of her. She'd work for him, and in return, get food and a home. Something her family couldn't afford anymore. I mean, a lot of kids got sent away to work back then. But you hoped they'd be okay. I don't think they knew what she was going to."

Santana nodded and bit her lip. She knew kids that went away, because their families couldn't afford to feed them. Some worked on the boats, others went into the city. To distant relatives. She really hoped they were safe.

"Anyway, I went looking for them, but they were long gone. Probably moved not long after they gave Marley up," Brittany explained.

"So she talked?" Santana asked.

"Yeah. Enough to tell me the basics. Then after that, she hardly said two words. She only talks to me when she's got something really important to say," Brittany explained.

"God that's so sad and just..._awful_," Santana sniffed as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

"It was," Brittany agreed. "But, ever since that day, she's worked for us and lived here. She's fed and clothed and housed and happy _and_ appreciated and _paid_. She likes us just fine. She never had it so good."

"You're her hero," Santana smiled.

"I didn't do nothing anybody else wouldn't have done," Brittany shrugged.

"Yes, but _you_ did it," Santana pressed.

Brittany shrugged with a smile.

"Whatever happened to the old man?" Santana asked.

"Don't know. I figured Burt and the boys went up there to give him a good thrashing. I went up there, maybe a month later. Place was empty. No sign of that mean son of a bitch."

"They didn't...they wouldn't have..." Santana hesitated.

"I didn't ask, and honestly I don't want to know," Brittany replied.

Santana heard soft footsteps come up the stairs and down the hall. She turned from Brittany to see Marley with a potato in one hand a knife in the other, and an impatient look on her face.

"Oops, sorry Marley. We got to talking," Brittany apologized with a smile and got up.

Marley huffed and shook her head.

"It's my fault," Santana said as she followed Brittany passed Marley out of the room.

Marley just rolled her eyes and shook her head again, this time in disagreement.

Santana, Brittany and Marley busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing for their Thanksgiving dinner. The house warmed with a fire in the hearth and the oven roasting the turkey. The radio played in the background. Santana lost count of how many times Marley smacked Brittany's hand away from picking at the food. It made Santana smile at how far Marley had come. How normal she was, aside from the not talking. Brittany was right, Marley could handle just about anything, if she came out of that childhood and live to be a part of this family and crew. Santana was about to check the pie when she heard a squeal come out of Marley's mouth. She turned to see Marley covered in a light sheen of flour Brittany had thrown on her.

"Oops," Brittany said impishly to Marley, then turned back around.

"This is why Marley doesn't let me in her kitchen," Brittany told Santana.

A spoonful of applesauce landed on the back of Brittany's neck and slid down her shirt. Brittany's eyes widened, then narrowed.

"Oh you're gonna get it now," Brittany grinned with light hearted revenge.

Santana pulled the pie from the oven, set in on the window sill and stepped out of they way, to the doorway of the kitchen and living room. She watched as Brittany and Marley had a little food fight, and some good-natured dish towel snaps. Santana laughed at their antics and felt comforted by this scene. It looked like how Santana imagined two sisters would be. Trying to one-up each other and tease. Marley and Brittany paused, look at each other, and both turned to Santana with mischievous grins.

"Oh no," Santana protested, and ran into the living room.

Alex Pierce arrived home just in time to run into Santana.

"Whoa, whoa! Where's the fire? You didn't let Brittany cook did you?" Alex joked as he steadied Santana.

He looked over and saw Marley and Brittany, covered in flour, carrot peels and apple sauce. He laughed and shook his head.

"Every damn time I leave them alone in the kitchen," Alex chuckled to Santana.

Brittany and Marley grinned and quickly grabbed Alex Pierce into a messy hug.

"Oh god!" Alex squirmed, then relaxed and kissed the tops of both their heads. "You girls," he cooed. "Go clean up," he said with a light shove.

"I see you escaped unscathed," Alex said to Santana.

"Just lucky you came home when you did. They had their sights set on me," Santana admitted.

"Aside from the mess, did everything get cooked?" Alex asked. "Because it smells great."

"Turkey is still in the oven, carrots and potatoes and beans will go on later. Pie is cooling. Dinner should be ready about five," Santana said with confidence.

"Well it looks like you've got things under control," Alex praised. "Maybe we should keep you around," he smiled.

"Thank you Mr. Pierce," Santana replied. "I'm going to go help Brittany and Marley clean up."

"Oh no you don't. They made the mess, they can clean it up," Alex replied. "Have a seat. Let me get a clean shirt and I'll be down in a minute. I'd like to have a chat with you."

Alex Pierce went upstairs to change out of his flour and applesauce stained shirt. Santana sat in one of the easy chairs next to the crackling fire. She smoothed down her shirt and rubbed her thumb into her palm, trying to stave off the nerves. What would Mr. Pierce want to talk about? Was she in trouble? Santana thought back to the past few weeks and couldn't think of anything she did wrong. She thought she must have missed something. Alex Pierce returned and offered Santana a cup of coffee. She accepted. He went into the kitchen and returned shortly with two cups of coffee.

"I forgot to ask how you take it, so Brittany made yours," Alex said with an apologetic smile. "I don't serve too many ladies cups of coffee. My manners are rusty."

"It's fine. Really. You thought to offer, so you're doing well," Santana replied.

"So," Alex said, settling into the love seat. "How's your father? Brittany says he's in Italy?"

"Yes, he's a medic with the 45th."

"Doctor back home though, yes?" Alex clarified.

Santana nodded.

"I never got a chance to thank you for patching up Blaine like that. Doc said you did a fine job. Prevented further damage," Alex praised.

"It was nothing," Santana demurred, taking a sip of her coffee.

Alex smiled at Santana's modesty.

"Brittany tells me you did your father's books. You weren't his nurse?"

Santana shook her head. "He wanted me to be his nurse, but...it wasn't for me. I was of better service making sure we kept the lights on and the supplies ordered."

"Well the woman who's been doing my books, Mrs. Johanssen, her husband came home from the war...in not great shape. So she's leaving to take care of him at home more. So, I need someone to keep an eye on things," Alex explained.

"I thought Mrs. Johanssen ran the general store?"

"Oh, no, not that gossipy old cow. The _other_ Mrs. Johanssen. No relation. I don't think," Alex replied with a wink.

"Thank you Mr. Pierce. It's not...it's not because you're unhappy with my logging, is it?" Santana asked.

Alex laughed. "Oh god no. No. Santana, all reports from Burt, Kurt and Brittany say you're a top notch logger. All you gals are. We're real happy with your work. But Winter's coming. Shorter days. We won't be logging as much, and I need someone who knows the inside and out of a ledger book."

Santana relaxed and smiled. "I'd be honored to help."

"Good. Come with me to the office tomorrow morning. We'll review the numbers together and if I'm lucky, you'll find a way to save me more money," he smiled and reached out his hand.

Santana shook his hand and thanked him again for the opportunity.

"She gonna do it Pop?" Brittany asked as she stuck her head around the corner.

"Yep," Alex nodded.

"Swell," Brittany smiled and gave Santana a thumbs up. "Dinner will be in an hour," she added.

"Well then. I'll get changed then set the table. You girls get washed up and I'll see you down here," Alex replied.

Brittany and Santana went upstairs to freshen up and change. Santana pulled out her dress for the evening while Brittany was in the bathroom down the hall. She hung it up to check for wrinkles, and was pleased with herself that her careful packing paid off. She laid out her panty hose and her good shoes. Santana unzipped her trousers and let them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them as she unbuttoned her blouse. It slipped from her shoulders and onto the bed behind her. Santana sat down on the bed and rolled up her hose and slipped it over her left foot. She let it slowly unfurled through her fingers, up her leg, careful to keep the line centered in the back. Santana stood and fastened the top with the back and front garter clips. She sat down again and repeated with the right leg. After she fastened the last garter, she stood up, bent down and ran her hands from her feet to the top of her thighs to smooth any wrinkles her pantyhose.

"Jesus," Brittany muttered under her breath from the hallway.

Santana looked to her left and sure enough, there was Brittany at the bedroom door wearing a towel, a red face and a dopey grin.

"Britt! You're not supposed to look," Santana complained, trying to cover up to no avail.

"You're not supposed to get caught," Brittany reminded her, still looking.

"Well, you're caught," Santana replied dryly, trying to cover her embarrassed, flattered and exasperated feeling.

Brittany looked up at Santana's face and gave a little half shrug.

"Oops," she replied with a smile and walked into the room. "Besides, it's just me and you."

Santana knew Brittany was trying to make light of her staring. Brittany's ears were red as an apple after Santana caught her. Santana at once loved knowing that and feared it at the same time. Brittany dropped her towel and Santana turned away out of habit and stared at the bed. She swallowed hard. It really wasn't that big.

"You going to finished getting dressed, or are you going to dinner in your underwear," Brittany asked as she clasped her bra.

Santana turned around and rolled her eyes. "Yes," she sighed and lifted her red dress with small white polka dots off the hanger.

Brittany watched as Santana lifted the dress over her head and shimmied it over her shoulders and down her back. Brittany let out an audible sigh. Santana turned around and saw Brittany, still standing in her bra and underwear, clutching her dress.

"Britt, you're going to wrinkle it," Santana said as she walked to her.

Brittany stiffened a little at Santana's approach. Santana's dress was still half unbuttoned at the front. It was a plain white bra. There was nothing inherently sexy about it at all. But the way Santana filled it out had Brittany unexpectedly on edge at that moment.

"I'm not going to bite you," Santana teased, noticing Brittany's discomfort. "What's wrong with you?" Santana asked, pulling Brittany's fingers from her crumpled dress.

"Nothing," Brittany said, and pulled the dress back. "It'll be fine," she smiled.

Watching Santana get dressed, not the other way around was oddly equally appealing to Brittany. Santana was going to share her bed that night, and Brittany was all of a sudden nervous at that prospect. Brittany slipped the dark green and cream striped dress over her head. As it fell over her hips and she adjusted it into place, she looked over at Santana, who was in a daze herself now.

"Is it too wrinkled?" Brittany asked, her nose scrunched in worry.

"Uh, no. No, it's not that. I just...I've never seen you in a dress before," Santana replied.

"Strange, huh?" Brittany chuckled.

"I was going to say pretty," Santana whispered with a smile, and met Brittany's eyes.

Brittany melted. Her heart did a little flip before it puddled.

"You look pretty too," Brittany whispered back.

"Thank you," Santana said and put her hand up to her chest.

"Jesus, I didn't even finish buttoning it," she laughed in embarrassment.

"Still pretty," Brittany grinned.

Santana looked at her sideways as she buttoned her dress up to a respectable, Thanksgiving dinner, cleavage-free level.

"Ready?" Brittany asked?

"Ready," Santana replied with a smile

* * *

Santana and Brittany entered the kitchen and Santana gasped. The kitchen table was transformed from a rough wood farm table to an elegant setting. A cream tablecloth draped low beyond the table top. Four hunter green placemats with silverware and brown striped cloth napkins were set equally on all sides. Water and wine glasses, coffee cups, two bottles of wine wine, and a jug of mulled cider sat at the ready. A centerpiece of pinecones, gourds and oak leaves finished the table setting. Alex stood at the top of the table, poised with carving knife and fork, ready to cut into the turkey. Roasted potatoes, squash, carrots and onions, beans and cranberry sauce were in serving dishes. Marley exited her small room and smoothed down her salmon colored dress with large embroidered flowers.

"Marley!" Santana exclaimed. "You look beautiful," Santana complimented.

Marley smiled proudly and spun around to show off her dress.

"I helped her pick it out," Brittany commented proudly.

"You did a great job Brittany," Santana replied.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Alex joked.

"A tie Pop? Wow, you pulled out all the stops," Brittany teased.

"You look very handsome Mr. Pierce," Santana replied.

"You girls look lovely. Come. Sit. Eat!" Alex commanded with a smile.

Dinner was full of laughter and compliments to the cooks. They spoke of the war, the lumber mill, and plans for Christmas. Santana hoped her father would be home on leave for the holiday, but it was still up in the air. Bellies full of turkey, wine and pie, they all grudgingly cleared the table and washed the dishes. Marley yawned soon after they finished cleaning.

Santana's yawn soon followed.

"See you girls in the morning," Alex said as he got up. "Santana? How's 10 tomorrow to go to the office?" Alex asked.

"10's fine Mr. Pierce," she replied.

Brittany looked at Marley, then to Santana. "I'm about to fall asleep right here," she chuckled with a tired sigh.

Marley gave her a little shove.

"I'm going. I'm going," Brittany replied and stood up, her hand held out to Santana.

"Come on, let's go to bed," she invited.

Santana took the helping hand out of her seat and groaned.

"I ate too much," she complained.

Brittany smiled and nodded and led Santana upstairs. Brittany's room was still warm from the evening fire. The chimney ran through the center of the house and the warmth made its way through her open bedroom door. Brittany walked in and turned on a small lamp by the bed. It cast a warm, soft, dim light across the room. Santana watched as Brittany slipped off her shoes and unbuttoned the front of her dress. She remembered herself and pulled her nightgown from her overnight bag. She turned and saw Brittany pull a plaid flannel nightgown over her head.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to you not wearing pants," Santana commented as she pulled the dress over her head and unclasped her bra.

Brittany turned to reply, but the words got lost as she saw Santana's back, her arms raised to slip on her nightgown. The pink marks left by her bra marred her skin. Brittany wanted to run her hands down Santana's back and smooth those marks away. Brittany looked over at the bed and swallowed. Now that the time had arrived - the moment that Brittany had been looking forward to all week, sharing a bed with Santana - Brittany's nerves crept up and took hold of her. The sleepover, sharing a bed, was the perfect excuse to be close to Santana. But now, now it was real and the fear of pushing too much, or not enough started to take over. "Don't scare her," was all Brittany could tell herself.

Brittany pulled back the covers on her bed to distract herself. The bed looked a lot smaller all of a sudden. Her stomach flipped, and she was sure it wasn't because of dinner. Excitement started to take over her nerves and she smiled to herself. Santana turned and looked at the bed and Brittany.

"Want the window?" Brittany asked as she took in Santana in her lavender nightgown. She felt her cheeks and ears get warm.

"Sure," Santana said, with a crack in her voice.

"I mean," Santana paused to clear her throat. "If you don't usually sleep on that side."

"I usually wake up diagonal, so I don't think I have a side," Brittany joked.

"Oh," Santana replied.

Her mind envisioned Brittany sprawled all over her, and she flushed.

"I'm sure you being there will stop me," Brittany offered as comfort.

Brittany didn't want to be a rude bedmate. Santana didn't think she would want to stop her. Brittany lifted a corner of the pulled back covers and smiled. Santana dipped her head down and smiled shyly back as she approached Brittany and the bed. Brittany tugged at the covers again in silent offering. Santana slid carefully into the bed and scooted over to the edge by the window. It was a lot colder by the window. She pulled the covers up to her chin. Brittany slipped into bed next to her and mirrored Santana. Brittany turned off the light. They both laid on their backs, stared at the slanted low wood ceiling and exhaled shaky breaths in the dark. The bright half moon shone in the window and cast a cool glow upon them. Brittany's arm felt hot pressed up against Santana's. They both felt it. Santana shivered.

"Are you cold?" Brittany asked. "I can get you another blanket?"

"No, I'm fine," Santana half lied.

She wasn't cold, but she couldn't say she was 'fine' either. She could hear every breath, feel every tiny shift in pressure of Brittany's arm against her own. Brittany knew she was lying. If Santana felt half as deliciously on edge as she did, she was a bold faced liar. Brittany took a chance. She rolled onto her side and replaced her arm touching Santana with the backs of her hands. Her knuckles grazed the warm cotton fabric. She felt Santana's bicep twitch and heard the held breath release.

"I'm really glad you came, for Thanksgiving," Brittany whispered.

"Me too," Santana replied with a smile.

"Yeah?" Brittany asked.

Santana found an ounce of bravery hidden under all her trepidation, and rolled on her side to face Brittany. She pulled her arms up to her chest. The backs of their hands touched. Santana's knuckles found a home in the dips of Brittany's. She thought about moving them. She didn't.

"I had a really nice time. Thank you for inviting me," Santana replied.

Santana watched the grin spread across Brittany's face. "You're welcome."

They both fell silent. Santana dug into the back of her mind, trying to think of something to say. She bit her lower lip in thought. Her eyes dipped to their hands touching. Brittany's long fingers curled into themselves. The baby fine hairs on the back of her hand tickled Santana. Her eyes closed. Brittany's impatience at the long silence spurred her to be more impish. She slid her feet over and placed them on Santana's.

"Aagh! Britt you're feet are freezing!" Santana squealed, as she pulled her legs back.

"I was just going to warm them up," Brittany laughed as her feet chased Santana's under the covers.

"Stop it!" Santana giggled and rolled away from Brittany onto her left side and faced the window.

Brittany laughed and grabbed Santana from behind, making sure to force her cold feet on top of Santana's. Santana felt Brittany's entire body melt into the back of her. All her soft and hard parts fit against all of Santana's dips and curves. Santana stopped breathing. She felt Brittany's shaking breaths of laughter on her hair. Those shakes turned into tingling shivers through Santana's entire body. Brittany let out a final sigh as her laughter died. Santana inadvertently let out a little moan. It felt so good to have Brittany spooned up behind her, she started to feel panicked. Santana had never felt _this_ good and warm and safe and content and restless all at once. Brittany could feel Santana's heart race through her back, against Brittany's chest. Was it fear or excitement? Brittany ran her thumb over Santana's clenched hands in hopes it was excitement. Holding Santana to her body felt like walking into a warm sunny clearing after walking through the darkest thickest woods. Warmth like sunlight. The joy of spring water falling into a hidden pool.

Santana let out a shaky breath. Brittany took that as a sign to back off, and she pulled her arms, her feet and her body away. Santana immediately missed her. She felt cold.

"You don't..." Santana whispered.

"Hmm?" Brittany asked.

Santana sighed and tried to gathered herself. Her thoughts. Her feelings. She instantly gave up on gathering her feelings. They were too wild and knotted to be tamed. She couldn't untangle them. But her thoughts. Maybe she could think of something. She turned to face Brittany again. Again, their knuckles brushed and settled into each other. Santana found the courage to look into Brittany's eyes. Her pupils were large, even with the moonlight illuminating her face. Her expression was hopeful, curious, expectant. Santana felt Brittany's index finger stretch out and caress hers.

"You didn't have to..." Santana began in a whisper. "I mean, I didn't mind..." Santana's voice died.

She couldn't admit it out loud. She loved the way Brittany holding her made her feel. She felt she was instantly addicted to the pressure of Brittany pressed against her back, her hips, her legs. Brittany moved her head closer to Santana's. Their noses nearly brushed.

"I didn't mind either," Brittany replied. Her smile grew. "I liked it," she admitted in barely a whisper.

Santana just nodded. Brittany worried her lip with her teeth. She smiled with an idea.

"Are you cold?" Brittany asked, with a little twinkle in her eye.

Santana caught onto the unspoken game, gave a small nod and rolled over on her left side. Brittany grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. She watched the moonlight dance over Santana's black hair. The gentle rise and fall of her side as she breathed and waited. Just as Santana started to wonder if she misread Brittany's seemingly thinly veiled scheme to hold her once more, she felt Brittany shift. Then Brittany hips met hers and cradled her backside. Brittany's thighs and knees nestled behind hers. She felt the tops of Brittany's feet cushion her soles. Brittany's fingers tickled Santana's neck when they pulled her hair out of the way. She then slid her hand down Santana's arm and laced their fingers together. Finally, she settled her chest and head behind Santana and pressed into her back and pulled her closer with her hand. Santana let out a shaky happy sigh. She was at once wound up and content. It was the strangest feeling.

"Is this okay?" Brittany whispered in Santana's ear.

Santana nodded.

"Warming up?" Brittany asked with a smile.

Santana quickly nodded. Brittany grinned into Santana's hair and let out a relieved breath. Santana squirmed a little back into Brittany. Brittany gave a light peck to the back of Santana's neck.

"Good," she whispered.

Brittany couldn't be happier. Her patience and little pushes paid off. She had Santana, in her arms, in her bed. Santana, on the other hand, thought her mind or body was about to explode. The way her heart was beating, she was pretty certain she was on the verge of a heart attack. Her body was warm. Every inch of skin that touched Brittany felt alive and electric. Even parts not touching Brittany weren't immune. Santana squeezed her legs together. Oh god.

Now she felt too hot. Was she sweating? Brittany wouldn't want to be cuddled up to her all sweaty, would she? Brittany's unknowing response to that was to nuzzle her nose deeper into Santana's hair. She breathed in and held onto the scent of Santana's shampoo and skin. Brittany exhaled and nudged her nose deeper until it rubbed against Santana's neck. Warm, soft.

After a few minutes, Santana felt Brittany's grip loosen and her breath even out. She sank into the feeling that Brittany fell asleep, holding her. A part of Santana smiled at the thought of Brittany so happy and content and warm and comfortable, that she could fall asleep. Another part of Santana was disappointed. Now that she had Brittany draped behind her, around her, she wanted more. Santana wanted more of this. More of Brittany. More of all these feelings that threatened the strength of her heart and mind. Santana sighed and closed her eyes. She chastised herself for being greedy. Enjoy the moment, she told herself. And she did. She soon felt her eyes get heavy, and her heart begin to slow. Brittany's breathing and heartbeat lulled Santana like a metronome. Sleep would come, and Santana happily, stupidly, joyfully welcomed it.

Brittany didn't know how long she had been asleep, but she did know her left arm was numb. Trapped underneath her body, it was dead weight and uncomfortable. Brittany woke enough to move it. She slid it out from underneath her body and up under the pillow she and Santana now shared. She found a home for her arm under the crook of Santana's neck. She waited for the pins and needles to subside in her half dream half waking state. Brittany's movements were enough to rouse Santana. She rolled over on her back, and covered Brittany's hand on her stomach with her own. Brittany felt her stomach gently rise and fall then tense as Santana moved once more and rolled to face her. Brittany smiled in her half sleepy haze as she felt Santana's bare legs shift to tangle with her own. Santana's left hand slipped around Brittany's waist and pulled at her back. Brittany mimicked Santana and felt the gathered material of Santana's nightgown in her hands. She smiled, thinking about it riding up past her waist, but she didn't investigate. She just scooted closer and felt Santana do the same until Santana's right arm nudged Brittany's chest and their noses met. Santana smiled in her sleep and rubbed the tip of her nose against Brittany's. Brittany giggled and nudged back. Santana's eyes fluttered half open and felt she was dreaming. She was so close to Brittany's lips. So close.

But Brittany was asleep, wasn't she? She couldn't kiss her while she was sleeping. Though to wake her with a kiss like Sleeping Beauty was a romantic, if not polite notion. Santana didn't even know how to kiss her. How do you kiss the most beautiful, wild, wonderful, confident, smart woman that is Brittany Pierce? Santana woke up more and chose the safest route between not doing anything and kissing Brittany senseless on the lips, which she had no clue how to do. Santana wet her lips, leaned over and kissed Brittany's cheek. Brittany tilted her head up and kissed Santana's cheek. Then kissed Santana's cheek a little closer to her mouth. Santana froze. She was caught. Her heart found its insane rhythm from earlier.

"Brittany?" she whispered into her cheek, still pressed softly against Brittany's.

"Mmm," Brittany hummed.

Brittany kissed her again in the same spot. Santana kissed Brittany's cheek again, closer to her lips, as Brittany had done. She felt Brittany smile against her, and Brittany placed another kiss on her cheek, just at the corner of her mouth. Santana tilted her head and kissed Brittany's cheek again, at the corner of her mouth. Brittany smiled wider, even as she felt Santana's lips tremble and her breath shake. Brittany's hand ran up from Santana's waist, up her back and settled at the nape of her neck. She turned her head toward Santana and saw the nerves and want in Santana's eyes.

"I want to," Brittany confessed in a whisper.

She closed her eyes and waited for Santana. Brittany ran her fingers back and forth petting the wisps of hair on the back of Santana's neck. Santana let out a little moan and felt Brittany smile against her cheek and corner of her mouth.

"Is that a yes?" Brittany asked quietly.

She felt Santana's eyelashes flutter closed and her smile spread across her cheek. There was a tiny nod and a nervous breath. Brittany kissed her again at the corner of her mouth, and waited for Santana to join her. She felt Santana's full soft lips tentatively, then with a little more pressure, press into her. Brittany pressed Santana's head with her hand, gently coaxing her to turn just a little more, and Brittany kissed Santana just halfway on her lips. Santana relaxed a little more and kissed her back. Brittany pulled away and slipped her hand under Santana's arm and smoothed her fingers over Santana's cheek and ran her thumb along the bottom of her lip and her jaw. She felt Santana's hand grip the back of her nightgown tighter.

"It's okay," Brittany comforted with a whisper and a small smile.

This was it, Santana thought. Santana's grip loosened. Brittany pressed her lips fully, lightly to Santana's. Santana didn't move for a second, maybe two, but Brittany was undeterred. She tilted her head and moved her lips against Santana's, waiting for her to respond. Santana let out a shaky breath that played across Brittany's lips, and she kissed back. Santana pressed her lips against Brittany's and she felt like the sun rose on a new day. Warm, bright and new.

Santana pulled away and pressed her lips together, savoring the feeling of Brittany on her lips. She rested her head on her pillow and watch Brittany lick her lips and smile. Santana couldn't believe that just happened. She kissed Brittany. Brittany kissed her.

"So sweet," Brittany whispered.

Santana's face got hotter.

"Did I...was I…okay?" Santana asked in a whisper. Unsure and embarrassed.

Brittany's toothy grin shown in the moonlight. She leaned up on her left arm and Santana rolled onto her back and looked out the window. The pines were black sillouettes against the bright night sky. Brittany's right hand found Santana's cheek again, and cupped it gently.

"So, so much more than okay," Brittany smiled. "So okay, that I'd like to kiss you again. If that's alright with you?" Brittany offered.

Santana let out a shaky relieved breath, smiled, and nodded. Oh god yes did she ever want to kiss Brittany again. She gasped when Brittany shifted her weight and her chest on top of Santana's. Santana knew right then and there that Brittany even half on top of her was better than all of Brittany behind her. Her weight settled gently onto Santana and Santana could feel Brittany's heart racing to catch up to her own. That feeling of Brittany's heart just as nervous and excited as hers was almost drowned out by the feeling of Brittany's breast pressing into her own. Santana was dizzy.

Brittany ran her right hand over Santana's left ear and just admired her.

"So beautiful," she whispered.

Santana turned her head and looked at Brittany's adoring expression. No one has looked at her as Brittany did at that moment. Brittany's tongue poked out and wet her now parted lips. Santana's left hand dared to reach for the back of Brittany's neck and kissed her again. Santana slowly gained confidence and enthusiasm as they mapped out each other's lips. Their breaths turned into pants and whimpers as they both dared to be more forceful. Santana's right hand found the small of Brittany's back, her left hand tangled in Brittany's hair. Santana arched up into Brittany, yearning to get closer. Brittany let out a groan into Santana's lips. Santana felt like her body had been taken over. Want. Need. More. Joy. Bliss. Yes. This was all she felt.

Brittany pulled away and touched her forehead against Santana's.

"Wow," she panted, her eyes shiny and dark.

"Uh huh," was all Santana could reply.

"I really, really like kissing you," Brittany confessed.

"I really, really like kissing you too," Santana smiled.

"You think we can do this again sometime?" Brittany asked as she nudged her nose against Santana's.

"I'd like that," Santana grinned.

"Cause if it was up to me, I would kiss you all night, but you have to be sharp for meeting with Pop tomorrow," Brittany explained as she rolled onto her back.

"Your father," Santana gasped, her hand covered her mouth.

Santana's wide, worried eyes turned to Brittany.

"Oh god, you don't think he'll know will he?" Santana panicked.

"How?" Brittany laughed.

Santana honestly thought Mr. Pierce would be able to tell by just looking at her that she had been absolutely, positively, kissing his daughter senseless.

"I'm not going to tell him," Brittany assured her with a chuckle. "Are you?"

"God no! No one. No one can know," Santana emphasized.

Brittany felt a pang of hurt clutch her chest. She was so damned happy, she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But she couldn't. Not if she wanted to keep what they started. Of course no one could know. It made perfect sense. Perfect, sad sense.

"No one will," Brittany quietly said as she placed her hand over Santana's. "It's our secret."

"Our secret," Santana repeated with more confidence. "Ours," she whispered with a little smile.

"Ours," Brittany replied with quiet reverence.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** You readers, I can't with you. You're THE best. Bar none. Hands down. Seriously. Thank you. To my picky!anon, you are very right. Technical note on using a two-handed bucking saw: you pull, not push. I knew it and wrote it wrong anyway. Thank you picky!anon. You are fabulous. I'll just leave this chapter here and sit in a corner and think about what I did. :)

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

**LATE NOVEMBER 1943**

The November sun rose slowly into Brittany's bedroom window Friday morning. It pulled gently at Santana's eyelids, as she woke from her slumber. She took a deep breath of happy satisfaction, and startled at the difficulty. She smiled to see Brittany's blonde head on her chest, rising and falling with her. Santana ran her hand over Brittany's hair and couldn't imagine waking up alone ever again. Not when she woke up to Brittany. By the look of the sun, Santana knew she had time before she had to get up and as a result, wake Brittany. So, in the time she had, in the quiet whisper of the morning, she let herself just look. She studied the different shades of blonde that made up Brittany's hair as she stroked it. She counted the freckles on her nose. She memorized the slope of Brittany's side dipping into her waist, then rising to her hip and disappearing down those legs under the covers. Santana rubbed the worn plaid nightgown and noticed how it wore thin near the collar. Years of sleep. Years of being wrapped up and draped around Brittany's body. That beautiful, strong Brittany body.

Santana rolled her eyes at herself. Her thoughts were getting carried away and taking her to a place from which she didn't think she would want to return. She sighed and shifted her weight. Brittany stirred and rested her cheek squarely over Santana's right breast and nuzzled into her.

"Britt," Santana squeaked.

"Hmmph," was Brittany's reply.

"Britt, I have to get up now," Santana whimpered.

"No," Brittany mumbled.

Brittany scooted up more on top of Santana and nuzzled her nose into her neck.

"Don't move," Brittany sleepily demanded.

"Why?" Santana asked.

Brittany kissed her neck.

"That's why," she said with a smile.

"Brittany," Santana whined. "I think your father is up."

"So," Brittany mumbled into her neck and kissed her again.

"He might walk in," Santana warned.

"He won't," Brittany replied, still groggy.

"But…" Santana began.

"The only butt I'm concerned about is yours," Brittany said as she slid her right hand down Santana's side.

"Stop!" Santana hissed, stopping Brittany's hand. "You're incorrigible," she half-heartedly complained.

"Uh huh," Brittany said with a smile. "Stay here," Brittany said, lifting herself off of Santana and out of bed. "I'll get coffee."

Brittany walked out of the room and Santana sat up and pulled up the covers to combat the cold that soon replaced Brittany's warm body. While she waited patiently for Brittany to return with her coffee, she started to think about last night. Her stomach flipped remembering kissing Brittany. How she felt. How Brittany felt against her. On top of her. How she tasted. Her whole body turned warm at the thought. Santana heard Alex Pierce's voice downstairs and stiffened. Fear struck her and took over as quickly as the tingly ones disappeared. He can't know. He'll think they are wrong. Sick. He'll send Santana away, have her arrested. Or worse. God, was she sick? Santana sat quietly and attempted to assess herself. How did she feel? She thought back to kissing Brittany and smiled. She felt alive and excited. Santana felt like she had been living in a world shrouded by gauze, and only now did she see clearly the bright light of day. She wondered if that was a side effect of homosexual acts. Maybe it made you feel good, to perpetuate itself.

Brittany silently ascended the staircase and peeked around the bedroom door. There, she saw Santana, sitting up in bed, her hair a wonderful mess in the soft morning light. Brittany was certain she had never seen anyone as beautiful as Santana in that moment. She was absolutely smitten and she knew it. Brittany walked into the room holding two steaming mugs of coffee. Santana looked up and forgot everything except the woman in front of her.

"Mornin' beautiful," Brittany greeted as she sat down on the bed.

Santana's face lit up and blushed at the compliment.

"Brittany…" Santana shyly admonished, embarrassed at the attention.

Brittany coaxed the mug of coffee near Santana's face and leaned in.

"No one's ever told you you're beautiful?" Brittany asked with a smile.

Santana took the mug from Brittany and looked out the window shaking her head.

"Well, my dad," Santana admitted. "But I don't think he counts."

"No one you were sweet on never told you?" Brittany asked.

Santana shook her head again and looked at her lap.

"I've never felt...like this," Santana confessed to the coffee cup in her lap.

Brittany's face brightened and smiled at the admission.

"Me neither," Brittany whispered back, giving Santana a little nudge with her shoulder.

Santana sipped her coffee and thought.

"But you've kissed...you've kissed other people," Santana replied.

"Yeah, I have," Brittany agreed. "But they," Brittany reached out and took Santana's chin in her hand, and turned it to face her. "They weren't you."

Brittany's eyes dropped to Santana's lips and the memory of last night welled up in her mind.

"You," Brittany said, returning her eyes to Santana's. "You're special."

Santana bit her bottom lip.

"Yeah?" Santana asked, hopeful.

"Most definitely yes," Brittany grinned and gave Santana a quick peck on the lips.

"So special," she whispered against Santana's lips and kissed her again.

Santana arrived in the kitchen impeccably dressed in her trousers and blouse. She greeted Alex Pierce as "Sir" and her stiff formality flummoxed Mr. Pierce.

"You feeling okay Santana?" Mr. Pierce asked as he ate the last of his scrambled eggs.

Oh god he knows. How does he know? He knows.

"Of course. What? Why do you ask?" Santana quickly replied, smoothing down her shirt.

"I don't think you've called me "Sir" since your first week," Alex smirked.

"Oh, sorry. Right. Sorry," Santana stammered back.

Maybe he doesn't know.

"Get enough sleep?" Alex asked.

"Yes. Thank you," Santana, still not making eye contact with Mr. Pierce.

"Good. Ready to hit those accounting books?" Alex asked, clearing his plate from the table.

"Yes sir. Alex. Mr. Pierce," Santana replied with a wince.

"You sure you okay? Indigestion? I think we have something for that," Alex offered good-naturedly.

"I"m fine. Sorry. Coffee hasn't kicked in yet," Santana answered.

That was a good excuse, wasn't it?

"Come on then. You'll be sharp enough when we get to the office, I'm sure," Alex offered.

"Let me just get my bag," Santana replied.

She went upstairs to retrieve her bag, but more importantly to tell Brittany they were leaving.

Brittany just pulled her nightgown over her head when Santana appeared at the door. She was naked as the day she was born.

Good lord in heaven, Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Santana averted her eyes. "We're going to the mill," she mumbled.

Brittany smiled and walked across her room to dig underwear and a bra out of a drawer.

"Well you have fun looking at all those columns and numbers. Hopefully they're more black than red," Brittany replied cheerfully.

"See you later?" Santana asked, turning to leave.

"You can count on it," Brittany winked.

Brittany listened to Santana and her father leave the house as she finished getting dressed. She laughed thinking about how red in the face Santana got when she walked in on her. Brittany's plan was working like a charm. If she just kept teasing Santana with what she knows Santana wants - herself - Santana's walls will come down. She can see Santana fighting it. Kisses in the dark and on guard in the morning.

Brittany understood. She felt herself fighting it. If Brittany, and deep down Santana, get their way, and continue this - whatever this was - what would that look like? Brittany worried her lip in her teeth and thought about Kurt and Blaine. To everyone else, they're just best friends. But how is that to live? Santana was gone less than 10 minutes and Brittany already missed her. She was counting the hours until they would be alone again.

* * *

Mr. Pierce sat Santana down in his office chair and laid out the accounting books on the desk for her. They reviewed his accounts receivable, accounts payable, pending shipments, orders, equipment needs, and payroll. Alex Pierce was impressed with Santana's command for the numbers and her grasp of the overall financial operation. For her part, Santana thought it was a lot easier working with actual goods and money, rather than services traded for live chickens or car repair. Alex praised her and they both agreed she would be in the office twice a week to review the books throughout the winter, and longer if need be.

Her eyes ran down the payroll ledger and caught a difference that set her teeth on edge. It made sense that loggers with years more experience than herself would get paid more. That was a given. But she knew the long loggers took on two more men after her crew was hired, and they were paid a dollar more a day than the women. Mr. Pierce was getting a good deal with her crew. They were producing plenty of lumber at a lower cost. Made perfect business sense. But Santana felt cheated. She understood women getting paid less for different work, but her crew was doing the same job as those other men. Just as well. Maybe even better.

"Mr. Pierce?" Santana asked.

"Yes Santana, what is it?"

"These two new hires you took on in July for the long logging crew. Did they come in with logging experience?" Santana asked.

"Yes, yes they did," Alex replied with a knowing smile.

"Your crew was hired at the standard rate set by the government for women joining the workforce. If you're asking for a raise, it's simple. Find me $25 a week more in those books," Alex explained.

Santana's heart swelled. "You can count on that Mr. Pierce."

Alex laughed and patted Santana on the shoulder. "I figured as much. But just so we're clear, I'm hoping you find more than $25 a week in there."

"I'll do my best Mr. Pierce," Santana replied.

"I know you will. Well, I'd say that's enough for now. You and Brittany joining us for lunch up at the house?" Alex asked as he exited the office.

"I'm not sure. I'll check with her. Thank you for the invitation," Santana replied.

Santana felt emboldened by her new mission. Save the logging company money, and get the crew a raise. She was looking forward to her new side job. Santana skipped out of the office to tell Brittany the good news. She ran halfway down the steps, before she realized she forgot her bag. Santana turned and looked up the stairwell and saw familiar blonde locks hanging from the peaked roof over the stairwell landing. Santana rolled her eyes and smiled at Brittany's snooping. Santana walked up to the landing, reached out and tugged a fist full of hair.

"Ow!" Brittany complained from the rooftop.

She peeked over the edge and pouted at Santana.

"That hurt," Brittany whined.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, Brittany," Santana admonished with a smirk.

Brittany climbed down from the rooftop and followed Santana inside the office.

"So you going to find Pop some money?" Brittany asked.

"Mmhmm. And with any luck, a raise for the crew," Santana answered.

"You going to tell them when they get back?" Brittany asked.

Santana shook her head. "No. I don't want to get their hopes up. I have to sort through supplier costs first, check out their competitors and see if I can get better deals. Plus I have to review _all_ the math. Something might have been missed. Plus, I'd like it to be a nice surprise if I do find the money."

"You will. I'm sure of it," Brittany replied, grabbing Santana's hand. "Come on, we have to get back to camp."

"Why?" Santana asked as she picked up her bag.

"Buster and Charlie still need their Thanksgiving dinner," Brittany explained.

"They don't know it's Thanksgiving Brittany," Santana reminded her.

"Doesn't mean they don't deserve a treat," Brittany replied.

* * *

Santana and Brittany stopped by the bunkhouse and changed into their dungarees and work shirts and boots. Oddly enough, changing in front of Brittany here wasn't a problem for Santana. She didn't give it second thought. It was habit. Muscle memory to be surrounded by cedar and clothes pegs and cubbies, shedding her clothes and donning new ones. The bunkhouse was like an old habit. One that comforted Santana after such a night.

"Oh your dad wanted to know if we were joining him and Marley for lunch," Santana mentioned as they walked to the stables.

"Nope," Brittany replied, looking ahead and smiling at the horses.

"What are we doing for lunch then?" Santana asked.

"You'll see," Brittany replied.

Brittany pulled a handful of carrots out of her jacket pocket and handed Santana two.

"I've never fed a horse before," Santana confessed.

She stood there nervously, assessing their height, weight and how easy it would be for Charlie and Buster to kill her.

"Well since you already had a nice conversation with them the other week, the next step is sharing a meal," Brittany said, taking a bite out of the carrot. "Hold your hand out flat, like this," Brittany said with her mouth full.

Santana watched as Brittany raised her open palm, offering the carrot to Charlie like it was on a tray. Charlie leaned over his stall door and nuzzled at Brittany's shoulder, then sniffed and gently took the carrot from her hand. Seemed harmless enough. Brittany stroked his neck and cooed at him. She turned to Santana.

"Go on," she encouraged.

Santana placed the carrot on her shaky hand and raised it up to Buster. Buster leaned towards the carrot and Santana turned her head away and shut her eyes. Brittany stifled a laugh.

"He's only interested in the carrot, not you silly," Brittany teased.

Buster sniffed and grabbed the carrot, his soft muzzle tickled Santana's hand. Santana turned back and opened one eye. There was Buster, calmly eating his carrot, like Santana didn't matter. She now felt like an unappreciated waitress.

"You're welcome," Santana said to him.

Buster leaned back toward Santana and nudged at her hand.

"Aagh! What does he want?" Santana squealed.

"You to pet him," Brittany laughed. "Or give him another carrot."

Santana relaxed her shoulders a little and slowly met Buster's face with her hand. He sniffed at her some more, but relaxed as Santana relaxed and stroked his neck. A smile formed on her lips.

"Gentle giants," Santana whispered.

"Mmhmm," Brittany replied with a smile. "Want to go for a ride?" she asked.

"Oh god no," Santana protested as she whipped her head round to meet Brittany.

"I just petted Buster and fed him a carrot. Let's leave it at that for the day, okay?" Santana suggested.

"Okay," Brittany agreed. "But will you promise to think about it?"

Santana smiled and nodded. She turned to Buster and laughed as he nudged her pockets for another carrot. "I'll think about it," she said quietly with a smile.

Santana felt a hard nudge at her shoulder. She turned to see Brittany pressing a pitchfork handle into her arm. Santana deflated.

"You butter me up by letting me feed and pet the horses, but really, you just wanted me to help you muck the stables," Santana accused.

"Worked didn't it?" Brittany replied triumphantly.

"I haven't helped you yet," Santana replied.

"How about I make it worth your while?" Brittany said with a wink.

Santana's face instantly turned hot and her mouth opened to speak but little came out.

"Oh. Okay," Santana croaked and looked away.

"But I'm not going to tell you when, if you were wondering. But I think you'll like it," Brittany said with a grin.

Great. Santana had from now to god knows when to think about Brittany kissing her again. She had been keeping her mind busy with accounting ledgers and not getting her fingers bitten off by Buster. Now it was just kissing. Kissing. Kissing. Santana snapped out of her daze when Brittany opened the stable stall and led the horses out to the clearing.

"You're not going to tie them up?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. "They don't go anywhere," she replied and stepped into the dirty stall. "They just want to stretch their legs and have a snack."

Brittany and Santana mucked the stalls and filled the with fresh hay, food and water. Brittany provided fresh blankets for the horses after she led them back inside.

"I like the colors on those," Santana remarked, as Brittany made a few adjustments.

"I picked 'em out. Burt and I got into a little argument about them. He didn't want to pay the extra money for the pretty ones," Brittany explained.

"Well I think it suits them," Santana said with an agreeable nod.

"Thanks. Me too," Brittany smiled.

Santana and Brittany walked toward camp and Santana stopped and smelled the air, then her shirt.

"Ugh, I smell like horse," Santana complained.

"More like horse shit," Brittany chuckled.

"Brittany! That's mean," Santana frowned.

"It's true! Anyways, I smell like shit too. Let's get a shower before we eat," Brittany suggested.

Brittany clasped her hand around Santana's wrist, and led her again toward the bunkhouse. Santana felt her whole body relax with the warmth of Brittany's hand on her. Santana didn't know why now - when Brittany's held her hand plenty of times - it felt different. Better. Right. Brittany slowly turned her hand, slid her fingers up Santana's palm and nudged her fingertips into the spaces between Santana's fingers. Santana was so keyed into her achingly, delightful slow touch, she swore she could feel the ridges of Brittany's fingerprints rub along her palm. Santana looked down at their hands, now laced together and sighed. How did something this simple feel so right? Santana didn't know, and at that moment she didn't care.

Brittany watched Santana through side glances as they walked. She eyed her with nerves fluttering in her belly. She hoped this was okay. Holding hands could be casual, couldn't it? It was before. Well, Brittany pretended it was casual before. Ever since the first day they met, the first night she grabbed Santana's hand to help her up, Brittany found every opportunity to "casually" take her hand again and again. Like friends do, of course. But now it was different and Brittany knew it, and she could see Santana knew it as well. That kiss. Those kisses. Brittany felt like her world had been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. With a touch of lips, all of Brittany's senses were honed in on the touch, the feel, the scent, the sounds, the taste of one person. Brittany sighed.

"What?" Santana shyly asked.

"I dunno," Brittany said, sighing again. "Just feels like it's a fantastic day to be alive" Brittany commented and gave Santana's hand a soft squeeze.

Santana looked over at Brittany and smiled, then dipped her head back down to watch the path they walked along. She nodded her head. Yes, it was a great day, thanks to Brittany. That is until Santana remembered they were going back to the bunkhouse to take a shower. Alone. Nervous didn't do justice to how Santana felt at that moment.

Brittany relit the wood stove when they returned to the bunkhouse, while Santana pulled out some clean clothes to change into after her shower. Anything to distract from what was to come next. Brittany squatted in front of the stove and rubbed her hands together. She too, was delaying the inevitable and trying to calm herself down.

"You ready?" Brittany asked, staring at the stove.

"Uh huh," she heard Santana nervously reply behind her.

"Shower?" Brittany asked as confirmation.

There was a long pause.

"Bath," Santana replied as she considered the clothes on her bed.

Santana thought soaking in a tub for a half hour, with the cover of copper several feet away, was less intimidating (and tempting) than five minutes standing next to Brittany in the shower.

"I'll start the water," Brittany answered, as she got up and entered the shower room, not looking at Santana.

Brittany opened the tub faucets and turned on the water. It sputtered for a few seconds, then flowed strong and consistent. She sat on the tub, the narrow edge dug into her thigh, as she ran her hand under the water to check the temperature. It slowly warmed, then grew hot, and wisps of steam rose up from the water. Brittany told herself to breathe.

"It's just a fucking bath, get a hold of yourself," she muttered.

"Did you say something?" Santana called from the other room.

"Water's ready!" Brittany called back.

Brittany grabbed her soap, hung her towel off the back of the faucet, and shed her dirty clothes next to the tub. Her back turned from the open shower room door, she leaned over, grabbed both sides of the tub and placed one leg gingerly into the hot water. Brittany heard Santana's bare feet pad across the bedroom. Brittany quickly stepped both feet into the tub and sat down. Too quickly.

"Fuck," Brittany hissed.

The water was damn hot.

"You should take your time getting into that hot water Brittany," Santana said sympathetically, as she approached her tub. "You'll burn yourself."

Santana's back was turned and still in her towel. She tested the water with her hand.

"I appreciate your concern for my pink parts," Brittany joked through the pain.

Santana's hand stopped, but she didn't turn around. That was not the conversation she wanted to have right now. She wanted to ignore Brittany's presence just long enough to get in the bath and soak and relax. Santana decided not to take the bait. She let out a breath and slightly shook her head. Incorrigible. Brittany Pierce was just plain incorrigible. But Santana had to admit, she loved that side of Brittany.

Santana dropped her towel and stepped into the water, then slowly sank the rest of her body and settled into the bath. She closed her eyes, laid her arms out on the edge, and let her head fall back against the tub. Brittany watched agape. She had spent six months with Santana already, seen her naked practically every day, but somehow, Santana continued to surprise Brittany with how sexy she really was. Sliding into that tub was damn sexy.

Santana opened her right eye just enough to peek at Brittany across the room and see her staring. Santana smirked this time. Hidden away in the tub, her confidence grew at Brittany's unabashed stare and rosy cheeks.

"Like what you can't see?" Santana teased.

"Uh huh," Brittany replied dumbly.

"You're terrible," Santana commented with a smile.

"You love it," Brittany retorted.

"What? You staring at me? It's practically lecherous," Santana jokingly scoffed.

"If I see something beautiful, I like to look. Is that so wrong?" Brittany replied with a smile.

Santana closed her eyes again and shook her head. Brittany thought she was beautiful. And no, it wasn't wrong. Oddly, wonderfully uncomfortable, but not wrong.

Santana and Brittany both turned their attention to washing off the stable dirt, hay, and yes, the smell of horse shit. After rinsing off they stayed in their tubs, still wanting to soak and relax.

"Why don't you ever look at me like that?" Brittany asked quietly, breaking the long silence.

"I've looked," Santana muttered looking at her wrinkled toes.

"You've peeked. Yes. I've caught you peeking," Brittany teased. "But I've never noticed you just..."

"...staring?" Santana asked, looking over at Brittany.

Brittany nodded.

"Maybe you just never caught me," Santana excused.

Brittany lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. Santana examined her now wrinkled fingertips.

"It's difficult...to stare at something you want, but know you shouldn't have," Santana confessed in a whisper.

Brittany turned and rested her chin on her arms, folded on the edge of the tub. She bit her lip in thought.

"There's too many people in this world, telling folks what they should and shouldn't have. You shouldn't do that to yourself too," Brittany advised.

Santana let out a resigned sigh. "Britt."

"Enjoy it," Brittany offered.

"Enjoy torturing myself?" Santana asked in tired disbelief.

"Uh huh," Brittany smiled. "It's kind of fun."

Santana shook her head.

"It's nice, to feel wanted," Brittany admitted.

"Oh I want…" Santana started to confess.

Brittany grinned. Santana studied her knees, cursing herself for that slip. Santana was interrupted from mentally berating herself by noises outside.

"What was that?" Santana gasped.

"Marley," Brittany explained.

"What is she doing here?" Santana asked.

"I asked her to help with our dinner," Brittany replied.

"We're not having dinner at your house?" Santana asked, confused. "We didn't even have lunch."

"Nope," Brittany shook her head. "It's too late for lunch, so I figured an early dinner would be better. So this morning, I asked Marley to help me with this."

"Wait, you didn't tell her, did you?" Santana asked in a panic.

"Not at first, no," Brittany slowly replied. "She knew. Well, she saw my damn goofy face after you left with Pop and figured it out."

"What did she say?" Santana asked, desperate for information.

"Nothing, of course" Brittany chuckled. "She just looked at me and gave me one of those sly, knowing grins."

"So you don't really know if she knows," Santana tried to confirm.

"Oh she knows. She made kissy faces at me. Then I asked her to bring dinner over for just you and me," Brittany explained.

Santana's eyes went wide.

"Who she gonna tell?" Brittany asked.

"She could write a letter," Santana blurted out.

Brittany laughed out loud. "Santana. Will you stop and think for a second. It's Marley. She's not going to tell anyone, and she's for damn sure not going to draft a memo to the crew, Pop, or the mayor telling them anything. Christ woman, she's not stupid."

"She doesn't care? How? Why?" Santana asked.

"Because she cares about me more than what other people think," Brittany pointedly replied.

Santana felt scolded, and remained silent. She pushed too far questioning Marley's loyalty and she regretted it.

"I'm sorry," Santana apologized. "I didn't mean it."

"Forgiven," Brittany replied. "Santana, I know you're scared. I know _why_ you're scared. But so does Marley. She understands more than you know," Brittany said gently. "So forget about it, okay?"

Santana looked over at Brittany's softened, forgiving face and nodded.

"Good. I don't know about you, but I've turned into one big prune," Brittany declared light heartedly.

* * *

Santana emerged from the bunkhouse to find Brittany talking to Marley at the kitchen cabin table. The table was set for two, linen napkins and place settings from the house were arranged on top. Brittany smiled at Santana and met her halfway.

"Hey," Brittany greeted with a sweet smile.

"Hey. What's all this?" Santana asked, as she watched Marley light a candle in a mason jar.

"Dinner," Brittany plainly replied.

"Yeah I know, but it looks like a…"

"...date? I thought it might be nice. Being Friday and all," Brittany explained.

Santana thought back to all their fireside talks over the Summer. They were always on a Friday.

"Britt, that's so sweet," Santana replied with a soft smile.

Marley stood by and watched Brittany and Santana approach.

"Thank you for helping Marley," Brittany said, and gave Marley a hug. "Now go home and make sure Pop doesn't get into any trouble."

Marley rolled her eyes and walked over to Santana. She smiled warmly, and gave Santana a hug. Santana was startled by the affection, but returned it in kind.

"Don't hurt her," Marley whispered in Santana's ear.

Santana's eyes widened. Marley gave her another squeeze, pulled back, and left. Santana stood there stunned.

"You going to come eat?" Brittany asked.

Santana snapped out of her daze, sat down and shared leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner. After dinner and drinks by the fire, Brittany and Santana returned to the bunkhouse and got ready for bed. Santana slid into her own bed and wondered what was going to happen. Brittany had teased her about making it "worth her while". Santana automatically assumed Brittany meant a kiss. But all through dinner and drinks and talking, Brittany didn't make a move. Did Brittany mean the dinner date as the reward for helping taking care of Buster and Charlie? Santana thought it was sweet and romantic and thoughtful, but she had to admit, she was hoping for more kisses.

Brittany turned off the oil lamps and Santana could hear her bare feet cross the floor and the creak of the bed as she laid down.

"Goodnight," Santana said into the darkness.

"Goodnight," Brittany replied.

Silence. Darkness. Restlessness. Santana stared at the ceiling and let out a puff of air. Why didn't Brittany kiss her? Did she regret last night? No, she couldn't have. Candlelight dinner and wine was certainly romantic, even if it was at the kitchen cabin and the fire pit and not a fancy restaurant. The crackle of wood in the stove snapped and hissed. At least Santana was warm, if not frustrated. Maybe she should have kissed Brittany instead? She thought about it. Oh did she think about it. But every time she talked herself up, a voice in the back of her head, talked her right back down. It felt presumptuous. It felt awkward. It felt scary.

Brittany laid on her right side and fidgeted the blanket between her thumb and index finger. She heard Santana's frustrated sigh and smiled. Sounded like Santana was feeling the same way Brittany was feeling. Brittany had hoped Santana would kiss her by the fire, but that was wishful thinking in Brittany's mind. She knew she'd be doing all the nudging. Brittany tried to read Santana's mood at dinner. She looked for flirtatious glances, or a stray touch of the hand. Nothing. Brittany thought Santana would turn on the charm by the fire. But she didn't catch nary a glance through those impossibly long eye lashes. Now she was in bed, all the way over there, in the dark, and they said good night already. How does she kiss her now? Because Brittany sure did want to relive the previous night and then some. Did she wait too long? Brittany decided to wait a little longer and figure out how to approach Santana, in the dark, in her bed, and not scare her.

Santana could only think about Brittany kissing her the previous night. Brittany was a few feet away not kissing her and this was not what Santana had in mind. Santana had a lot of kissing and maybe more on her mind. She just wasn't sure what "more" entailed. Just more of Brittany was all she was sure of.

Brittany ran through a few scenarios in her mind. What she'd do. What she'd say. When she'd say it. She was debating between two phrases when she felt the edge of her mattress dip and the blanket pull at her side. Brittany gasped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Santana whispered.

"No, not scared," Brittany replied with surprise as she sat up. "I'm glad you're here."

"I...I wanted...we didn't...and well we said goodnight, but...I was wondering," Santana stammered.

Brittany was so thankful the darkness hid her smile. She bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh.

"Christ. This sounded brilliant in my head," Santana lamented.

"What do you want?" Brittany asked in a whisper.

Santana's mouth opened but she couldn't get the words out. She felt Brittany's hand find hers.

"The girls will be back tomorrow," Santana replied.

The words were weighted with the knowledge that time was running out. Time alone. Santana's hands found Brittany's chin and cheek. Brittany's hands found Santana's shoulders and pulled her. Santana lost all the hesitation of yesterday, and kissed Brittany with confidence. A small moan rumbled in Brittany's throat. She had been waiting to do this all day, and so had Santana. Santana's chest vibrated with happiness, and her skin hummed, as she her lips mapped every crease and curve of Brittany's lips. She never felt more alive. Brittany gripped Santana's back and pulled her down on top of her. Santana fought with the blanket, and they panted and giggled as she struggled and pulled at the fabric to finally find herself in the warm cocoon of blankets, and Brittany's embrace.

Santana settled half on top of Brittany. Their chests rose and fell in time with each other, as they kissed and squirmed and their weights shifted. The more they kissed, the more they couldn't keep still. Brittany felt the same frustration as Santana, and decided to dare. To be bold. So she poked her tongue out a little and gave a quick lick to Santana's lips as they kissed. Santana pulled back with a gasp and a little squeak. Brittany couldn't tell if it was a positive or negative reaction.

"Sorry?" Brittany said.

"No. Just…" Santana said trying to catch her breath.

"Surprised? But in a good way?" Brittany hoped to ask.

Santana nodded, smiled, and leaned in for another kiss. This time Santana opened her mouth slightly when she felt Brittany's tongue gently nudge at her lips. She felt Brittany grin at the invitation and then felt Brittany's tongue slowly search out her own. Santana was only momentarily embarrassed by the moan she emitted when the tip of her tongue grazed Brittany's. Her hips automatically pressed down into the mattress as their tongues touched and tentatively swiped each other. Everything in between Santana's legs tingled as their kisses and tongues grew bolder. She could feel Brittany's hips reach upward, searching for pressure or friction, but finding none. Brittany groaned in pleasure and frustration. Everything felt so, so good, she just wanted more. Wanted to be closer. Wanted more Santana. Santana couldn't believe she was making Brittany feel so good. All the moans and whines coming from Brittany just turned Santana more confident and at the same time, turned her on more.

Brittany gripped Santana's lower waist, just at the top of her hips and tried to pull her into her. This top half on bottom half off position was more frustrating now than ever, and Brittany wanted to fix that as soon as possible. Santana resisted the pull and Brittany broke the kiss.

"What are you trying to do?" Santana asked.

"I want you on top of me. All of you," Brittany pled in a breathy whisper.

"I'll squish you," Santana protested.

"No you won't," Brittany replied.

Santana hesitated.

"I want to feel _all_ of you," Brittany explained.

Santana felt flush all over. She felt Brittany nudge her right leg under her, and scooted more on top of Brittany. She lifted up on her arms and gently laid herself down, bit by bit, until her full weight of her chest and stomach and hips and legs draped completely over Brittany. They both sighed shaky breaths of sated relief.

"You feel so, _so_ good," Brittany cooed.

Santana tangled her legs with Brittany's and replied with a little chuckle. "So do you."

Brittany ran her hands up Santana's back and pulled her head down for another kiss. Santana's arms shook from holding herself up on her elbows over Brittany. Brittany felt the shakes on her biceps and solved the problem by pulling Santana's right arm down and placing Santana's hand on her hip. Santana relaxed her left arm and kept that hand tangled in Brittany's hair. Brittany hummed in approval as Santana's full weight pressed down on her. She felt Santana's right hand grip her long johns as Brittany's tongue delved deeper and stroked harder. Brittany's unconscious response was for her left leg to draw up and her hips to do the same. Santana gasped again with surprise and pleasure. The tingles between her legs and her lower stomach spread to her legs and up her chest. She felt hot, and desperate, and filled with want. Santana grabbed the underside of Brittany's bent leg and press down, kissing her more forcefully. Deeper, sloppier, wetter.

Brittany's mouth and hips kept pace with Santana's and pushed even faster. Her groans and whimpers and moans increased with the pace. Brittany's hand slid down and cupped Santana's bottom. Now it was Santana's turn to moan. Santana felt like she was drunk hearing and feeling all those responses from Brittany. Her ego and pride swelled.

"Yes, don't stop, I'm so close," Brittany whispered as Santana kissed down her jaw and pressed into her again and again, meeting Brittany's thrusting hips.

Something in Santana's brain stopped. So close? To what? They're already closer than they could ever be, tangled up together. So close to...oh no. They can't. She can't. Santana stopped and rolled off of Brittany.

"What? Why did you stop? What's wrong?" Brittany asked, gasping for breath.

She tried to calm down, but she was about three grinding hips away from release. Everything in her throbbed. She felt her racing pulse everywhere.

"We can't," Santana gasped, catching her breath.

"Can't what?" Brittany asked as she sat up. "What's wrong? I thought you liked kissing."

"Kissing, yes. I love kissing you, but we weren't _just_ kissing," Santana replied.

"I'm sorry I got a little...my hand had a mind of its own," Brittany apologized with a little sly smile.

"Your hand felt good," Santana shyly replied.

Santana could still feel the grip of Brittany's hand on her ass and it was a fantastic feeling.

"Then what?" Brittany asked again.

Santana rubbed her thumb into the palm of her hand.

"Santana," Brittany coaxed, her hand covering Santana's. "What is it?"

Santana took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"You said you were close," Santana began.

Brittany nodded.

"You meant you were close to...close to a climax, right?" Santana said, barely above a whisper.

Brittany nodded again. "Too much?"

"Too fast," Santana agreed with a relieved breath.

"I'm sorry," Brittany replied.

"No, don't be sorry. We just got...carried away," Santana explained, looking for Brittany's agreement.

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry. I just wasn't expecting it, you know? I've only ever gotten that far on my own and...," Brittany turned away, embarrassed at her confession.

"I'm not Dr. Kellogg Britt, you didn't do anything wrong," Santana assured her. "I'm just not ready for us to get each other that far. Does that make sense?"

Brittany nodded. "I still get to cuddle you while you sleep though, right?"

Santana laid down on her side and felt Brittany mold to her body behind her. Brittany's arms wrapped around her and pulled Santana tight to her body.

"Sweet dreams," Brittany cooed, then gave her a little peck just below Santana's ear.

'Mmm you too," Santana replied.

"Santana, when you said 'get each other that far' did you mean you too?" Brittany whispered.

Santana's face grew hot. If the state of her underwear was any indication, the answer was clear. Santana nodded once. Brittany gave her a squeeze.

"I promise I'll have sweet dreams," Brittany replied. "But there might be some sexy ones in there too," Brittany confessed.

Santana smiled into her pillow. "Try not to act them out tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany replied. "Not tonight."

* * *

Santana woke up to the smell of coffee. She opened her eyes to find Brittany sitting on Santana's bed, sipping from her tin mug.

"Tell me there's one of those for me," Santana grumbled.

"Next to you," Brittany replied.

Santana grabbed the coffee, sat up and took a few sips. "What are you doing over there?"

"I didn't want to wake you," Brittany answered.

Santana looked at the morning light shining through the windows. "When does the crew get back?"

"Lunchtime," Brittany replied.

Santana's eyebrows furrowed. She was torn between losing alone time with Brittany and the fact that, of course the crew had to come back to work. And never leave them alone. Ever.

"We'll work around them," Brittany assured her.

Marley rang the lunch bell just as Burt's truck, carrying Blaine, Kurt, Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes and Tina, came into view. The girls were bundled up in the back, wrapped in thick coats and wool hats. Their faces were red from the late November wind snapping at their skin. They smiled and waved at Santana, Brittany and Marley and pointed at the fire roaring in the fire pit.

"I've made that drive from Seattle in the back of the truck. Cold as fuck back there," Brittany commented to Santana.

"Good thing you like them enough to build the fire then," Santana smiled.

"Well, they've been in real beds and in houses with central heating. Least I could do, so they didn't all turn around and run back to Mom and Dad," Brittany chuckled. "Actually I'm surprised they all came back," Brittany mused.

"It's your charm, I'm sure," Santana teased. "And your oh so polite way with words."

Brittany gave Santana a little shove and shook her head.

"Just in time for lunch!" Burt called as he got out of the truck.

"Wouldn't be a Hummel if you missed a meal," Brittany called back.

"That's for damn sure!" Burt replied.

The men helped the women out of the back of the truck, and they filed into the bunkhouse with their suitcases.

"Shit, they look like they did the first day they arrived. Hope two days in Seattle didn't ruin them," Brittany muttered.

Ten minutes later the women filed out of the bunkhouse. Off came the dresses, fedoras and heels. They arrived for lunch dressed in their dungarees, boots wool sweaters, wool hats and work coats.

"Well I'll be damned," Brittany said under her breath.

They all gathered at the kitchen tables with Kurt, Blaine and Burt, and devoured Marley's hearty venison stew and dumplings.

Tina and Mercedes started retelling their Thanksgiving stories. They consisted mostly of family, friends, food and the joys of indoor plumbing, private baths, central heating and electricity. Kurt and Blaine and Burt retold their family gathering stories and Kurt had fun embarrassing his father with a tale of Burt drinking too much and mistaking the laundry basket for the garbage. After lunch, when the crew retired to their bunkhouses, Rachel started in on a minute-by-minute retelling of the USO dance her father produced. The singers, the bands, the men on leave from war. She went on and on and on and on. Everyone had tuned her out after five minutes of Rachel breathless, run-on sentences.

"...was a poor arrangement of Perry Como's "Right Kind of Love" to be honest. Didn't you think so Quinn?" Rachel stopped and everyone looked up and over at Quinn.

Quinn was reading Life Magazine when her fingers stiffened their grip.

"I thought you had 'a few' dinners to attend," Mercedes accused.

Quinn paused, looked up, straightened her back and raised her head. Her gaze was pointed and serious. Mercedes, and the rest of the crew waited.

"I attended one, and found the company and the food to be painfully boring. So I took Rachel up on her offer to attend the USO party. I thought my time was better served helping support our boys while they were home," Quinn replied.

She turned to Rachel. "The arrangement was provocative, risky and exciting. I think it gave new life to frankly, a tired old love song."

"So, you spent the past two days with Rachel?" Tina asked.

"And her father. And his business partner," Quinn replied, returning her attention to her magazine. "Kurt and Blaine stopped by the show as well."

"The whole time," Brittany stated for clarification.

"Quinn was the perfect house guest, and made a lovely addition to our holiday celebrations," Rachel replied in her defense.

Brittany watched Quinn for a few more seconds, then turned her attention to her own bed and books. Santana watched Quinn's jaw muscle clench and twitch. Santana wondered what Quinn wasn't sharing. Or was she just embarrassed she spent the whole time with Rachel? Santana shuddered at the thought. That much talking would drive her nuts. Santana sat on her bed and flipped through a magazine Mercedes brought back for her, but her mind was still trying to unravel the Quinn puzzle. The first week she started at the camp, Mercedes has said Quinn was blackballed from Seattle work because she had a baby out of wedlock and her family disowned her. Her father was a philanderer who lost the family business. Quinn fell from the top of Seattle society to the gutter. So how did she have not one, but a few dinners to go to? Did she have friends left in Seattle? What was the disappointing letter she crumpled up earlier in the week? Santana looked over at Mercedes, who looked like she was the cat that ate the canary. If she knew something, she wasn't talking about it. And for a strong willed woman, with an equally strong attitude and a penchant for gossip, this behavior perplexed Santana even more than Quinn's typical stand-offish brevity.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Hello lovely readers! Here's your next installment. Big thanks to my beta and pre-reader for their input and keeping me honest :) Once again, I must say, you are fabulous, engaged readers. Thank you for continuing to come along on this adventure with me. Little extra author note at the end of the chapter.

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

**WINTER 1943**

The work days became shorter, as the sun rose later and set sooner in the late Fall sky. The women welcomed the rest. The shorter work day helped make up for the frigid temperatures and the cold rain that seemed to seep into their skin, despite the tin pants and jackets.

"Where's Santana?" Quinn asked when she noticed Santana didn't make the hike out to their logging site.

"Pop's got her doing the books a couple days a week. Mrs. J. has to take care of her husband at home more," Brittany explained.

"The one that owns the general store?" Quinn asked.

"No, the _other_ Mrs. J. No relation," Brittany replied.

"He just _gave_ her the job?" Quinn asked, annoyed at Santana's new, easy position.

"No," Brittany laughed. "I told him she had experience doing her father's books at his practice. He invited her to review the books at the office, and she impressed him."

"Must be nice not having to be out here every day," Tina grumbled.

"She earned it," Brittany emphasized.

Tina took that for what it was; an end to the conversation.

"Figures she gets special treatment," Quinn mumbled under her breath.

Rachel gave her a warning look with a small shake of her head.

"Hey Quinn!" Brittany said, as she killed the motor on her chainsaw and lifted up her safety glasses.

"Yeah?" Quinn responded.

"I heard that," Brittany said.

"And?" Quinn asked.

"Shut the fuck up," Brittany replied and returned to her logging.

"Told you," Rachel whispered to Quinn. "Don't push it."

Quinn huffed out a sigh of resignation, and got back to falling her tree.

After working for months out in the woods with chainsaws, Santana found the squeal and grind of the mill machinery as annoying as she did her first day. And despite Alex Pierce's assurances that the mill was warmer than the woods, she still wore her fingerless gloves. (A gift from Brittany). Marley packed her lunch in the morning and she liked the walk from camp to the mill. It was a pleasant respite from work, the crew and the temptation of Brittany. The tug Santana felt to kiss and touch Brittany constantly fought with her need to never show interest in her. It had only been a few days. How was she going to last until they were alone again? _When_ would they be alone again? Maybe Christmas, she thought. An entire month away. Santana hoped it would get easier. As she saw the mill come into view, she resolved to not think about. She would shut it out of her mind. She had work to do, and a secret to keep.

Alex Pierce greeted her as she walked into the office. He had a stack of invoices in his hands and a smile on his face. Santana reviewed and paid invoices all morning. At lunch time, the mill workers left their stations and gathered on the other side of the office door to eat their meal. Santana could hear their salty language and their horridly detailed descriptions of their latest conquests. Santana quietly ate her lunch alone at her desk, and hoped the poor women who found their way into the mill workers' beds were made up lies or ineloquent boasts.

She studied the accounting books while she ate her sandwich, blocking out the mill workers' chatter. Until she heard the talk turn to her. She only caught a few snippets. _Senorita, spic, beaner, _and something about a "spicy taco". By the end of lunch, Santana learned she was fuckable, by their standards. Her stomach dropped and she put her head down and into her work. She would've been so happy to quietly do her work unnoticed. Santana also knew that was wishful thinking.

The seat next to Brittany at the lunch table felt especially empty. She missed Santana being next to her. Not touching. Though she missed that too. Just simply taking up the space at her side. Brittany's left side felt cold. She took another bite of her stew.

"What's eating you Brittany?" Burt asked.

"Huh? Nothing. I'm doing the eating. If my stew bites back, I'll let you know," Brittany replied.

"You just seem kind of, I dunno, out of it," Kurt added.

"I'm fine," Brittany said with a forced smile. "Just thinking about the next stand of trees we have to tackle."

Burt started talking with Brittany about how they would work the next ridge, while Kurt watched her and wondered. Brittany seemed a little sad. A little lonely. It was such an odd thing to think, for Kurt's never recalled a time when he thought either of those things about Brittany. He felt almost as unsettled as Brittany looked.

"What's everyone's plans for Christmas?" Kurt asked. "Blaine and I were talking about decorating the camp for the holiday. You know, make it more festive."

"I was planning on going home to see my family," Mercedes replied. "But I wouldn't mind a little Christmas cheer around here until then."

"Me too," Tina added. "I think it would be fun."

"Well we do have plenty of time to do it. These nights are getting longer and longer," Quinn complained.

"We should sing carols as well," Rachel said. "My dad will be putting on a Christmas pageant with the USO that I _must_ attend, but, I'm happy to volunteer my voice to the festivities."

"Then it's settled," Kurt said with a smile. "You in Brittany?"

"Of course!" Brittany grinned.

Brittany's thoughts immediately turned to trying to remember where she put the mistletoe she hung every year at the house.

* * *

Santana closed up the books for the day and looked at the fading light outside with a frown. She would have to walk back in the dark. Santana put on her coat, scarf, hat and mittens, and grabbed her empty lunch pail. She knocked on Alex's door and poked her head in.

"I'm going to head back if that's okay?" Santana said.

"Sure thing, Santana. See you Thursday," Alex replied. "Thanks for all your work today."

"It was nothing Mr. Pierce," she answered and closed the door.

Santana walked down the narrow steps and into the mill yard where the men were gathered talking near their trucks. It started with cat calls and wolf whistles. Then more derogatory remarks. Santana pulled her coat tighter and set her sights on the path back to camp. She was just at the edge of the woods when she heard a truck rumble up behind her. She quickened her pace and kept her eyes forward.

"Need a lift?" a man's voice said, over the rumble of the truck engine.

Santana shook her head.

She heard the truck shift to idle and the truck door slam. She kept walking.

"Santana," she heard Alex's voice call.

Santana turned around in relief. The adrenaline subsided, leaving her a little woozy.

"Mr. Pierce. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you," Santana apologized.

"No, I should apologize. I should've offered you a ride back. And I will, from now on. Those men can get a little...well, they're not always gentlemen," Alex explained.

"Boys will be boys," Santana said, brushing it off as commonplace.

"They're men, and they should know better," Alex said as he opened the passenger side door for Santana.

"I've found most men to be a lot like them," Santana said as Alex put the truck in gear.

"Well, if they had daughters, they'd think about how they act a little more carefully I suspect," Alex said sadly. "I was just like them you know."

"That's hard to imagine," Santana replied.

Alex chuckled. "It wasn't until I met Brittany's mother that I started to settle down. Amazing woman. Just a spitfire and smart. Sharp as a tack that one. She put me in my place a time or two," Alex said with a wistful smile. "Anyway. It didn't really sink in until Brittany started getting older and the boys started taking notice. They were saying the same things about her as I'd said about women when I was their age," he said, shaking his head. "I swore right then and there, I'd treat women how I'd want my little girl to be treated."

"That's very admirable of you Mr. Pierce," Santana said. "I don't think most men make the connection between their daughters and other women."

"Does your father?" Alex asked.

"I actually don't know. He's not the type to cat-call. He's married to his work more than anything else," Santana explained.

Alex nodded. He understood throwing yourself into work. He hadn't dated anyone since his wife died. No one ever caught his eye after Susan. Santana saw the bonfire flickering through the trees as they approached the logging camp. Alex noticed her smile and he smiled in response.

"Home sweet home," Alex said as he pulled up into the clearing.

"Just in time for dinner," Santana said, as she saw everyone gathered at the kitchen table. "Will you join us?" Santana offered.

"No, no. Not tonight. Thank you though," Alex replied.

"Thanks again for the ride Mr. Pierce," Santana said, as she stepped out of the truck.

As Santana approached the kitchen, canvas unfurled from the eaves, creating tent walls around the kitchen cabin seating area. Santana pulled aside a corner gap, and saw the dining area illuminated with lamp light and a wood stove was crackling in the corner. It warmed up the dining area quickly. Santana slid into her seat next to Brittany. Brittany's smile warmed Santana up quicker than the wood stove.

"How was your first day in the office?" Brittany asked quietly.

"Good," Santana replied. "Pretty interesting. The gloves came in handy, so thank you."

"You're welcome," Brittany replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

Santana bit her lip in response. This was going to be harder than she thought. She forced the feeling away. This was not the time to be tempted. This was not the time for anyone to notice how they looked at each other. Santana vowed to be strong.

"So Santana, what's with the office job?" Mercedes asked.

"Oh, Mr. Pierce needed help with his books, and after I reviewed them, we agreed I'd help out a couple days a week."

"Yeah, we know that. Brittany told us, but what are you doing all day?" Mercedes prodded.

"Paying invoices, receiving goods, checking competitor prices, some payroll, checking back at least a year in ledger to make sure nothing was missed," Santana explained.

"So you got your nose in a book all day. Sounds like the good life. Though watch yourself, wouldn't want to get a paper cut. I hear those are the worst," Mercedes teased.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Ha. Ha." she sarcastically replied. "I'm helping to keep the place running, which means we keep our jobs, so you're welcome."

"Pass the potatoes," Mercedes said with a smirk.

Santana passed the potatoes with a wink.

"Don't worry, you still have to put up with her most days," Burt added with a smile.

"You didn't see any paperwork on the oil and lube I ordered, did you Santana?" Burt asked.

"Yeah. It was supposed to ship today, so you should see it by the end of the week," Santana replied.

"It's like having someone on the inside, giving us the scoop," Blaine remarked.

"Santana the office spy," Tina chuckled.

* * *

"Who wants to help me cut down a Christmas tree for the bunkhouse?" Brittany asked one bright and cold mid-December morning.

"Make Santana do it. She's not out in the cold enough now she's got her office job," Mercedes suggested.

Brittany looked around at everyone in the bunkhouse. They were all wrapped up, cozy in their places, reading and writing. They all looked at Brittany, then pointed to Santana.

"Santana," they all said in unison.

Santana looked at them and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself.

"Yeah, but you're all used to the cold more than me," Santana complained.

Santana was always cold. There was about five minutes at the end of her hot shower, when she felt fully warm. The other 23 hours and 55 minutes, she was never fully comfortable. Brittany found her extra layers, the warmest long johns, the wooliest socks, but no matter how many clothes she wore, Santana couldn't completely shake the chill.

"You'll be warm enough, promise," Brittany reassured her. "The rest of you? You're on wreaths and garland right?" Brittany asked the room.

"And ornaments," Tina added.

"Well get to it," Brittany encouraged. "Go get Kurt and Blaine. They've probably already built a replica Santa's toy shop by now," Brittany joked. "We'll be back in a couple hours."

Brittany waited by the door as Santana put on a second pair of socks, before slipping on her boots. She watched Santana wrap a scarf around her neck, then button her jacket all the way up, then a wool hat, then mittens over her fingerless gloves.

"We're getting a Christmas tree, not hiking to the Yukon," Brittany teased.

Santana followed Brittany out of the bunkhouse and over to Burt's workshed. They picked up two axes and a length of rope which Brittany swung over her shoulder. They walked up the hill and over the ridge into the woods closer to Brittany's house. Brittany periodically looked back, to check on Santana and to see when they were out of site of the camp. Once over the ridge and down the other side of the hill, Santana heard Brittany sigh of relief as she took her hand. Santana tugged back and looked around.

"You look cute all bundled up," Brittany said with a twinkle in her eye, ignoring Santana's caution. "And I don't know if I like these mittens," she said with a squeeze of Santana's hand. "Makes holding hands less…less…"

"Close?" Santana ventured a guess.

"Something like that," Brittany replied.

"How have you been?" Santana asked.

"You see me everyday," Brittany laughed.

"No, I mean, about, about us?" Santana asked quietly, squeezing Brittany's hand.

"You mean, do I spend my days and nights thinking about the last time we were together and trying to figure out when we can be alone again? Because that's how I'm doing," Brittany replied.

Santana's eyes went wide.

"Too much?" Brittany asked, a little worried.

"No, no. It's flattering. Really. I just didn't think you were thinking about it _that_ much," Santana confessed.

"You're not?" Brittany asked, more curious than hurt.

"I'm trying not to. I mean, we have to be so careful, and it's just torturing myself to relive those moments over and over again in my mind. So I block it out."

"It's hard not to act on," Brittany agreed.

Santana nodded.

"Guess what, though?" Brittany asked as she stopped and pulled Santana against a fallen tree.

"What?" Santana asked with a small gasp.

"We don't have to be careful out here," Brittany said with a grin.

Santana looked behind her and to her left and to her right. Nothing but forest. She felt Brittany's hands grip her hips. Her entire body felt warm again.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Santana asked.

Brittany tilted her head and dipped her eyes to Santana's lips.

"Completely," Brittany replied.

"But what if…"

Brittany's forehead met Santana's. Their noses brushed.

"Kiss me," was Brittany's whispered demand.

And Santana did. They kissed sweet, and slow and Brittany surprised herself with her own patience. It was _hello_ and _I missed this_ and _I've dreamed about this _and _let's forget about the world for five minutes_. It was warm and soft and tentative and wanting. It was everything they were at that moment in time. Happy, nervous, and searching their way home.

Santana was the first to pull away, and saw Brittany's swollen lips.

"We should find a tree," she giggled, as she brushed her thumb against Brittany's lips.

"Give our lips a break?" Brittany replied, mimicking the touch against Santana's lips.

"The others might figure out what we're up to if we go back like this," Santana reasoned.

"Especially if we go home empty handed," Brittany smiled, and picked up her axe.

"You think we'll be alone for Christmas?" Santana asked.

"Jesus fuck I hope so," Brittany replied.

She was too wound up to think otherwise.

After 30 minutes of looking at trees, assessing their pros and cons, a bushy, full Douglas fir was just the right tree for them. Not too tall, not too short. Perfect branches.

"I feel like Goldilocks," Brittany commented.

"You might look like her too," Santana teased.

They tied up the tree and Brittany looped the rope over her shoulder and around her chest and dragged it all the way back to camp. There, Quinn and Rachel strung pine garland over their wash basin mirrors, Tina and Mercedes constructed angel ornaments out of acorns, pine cones and seed pods. Kurt and Blaine had set up the tree stand with an old coffee can and climbing spikes.

"Our heroes return!" Blaine cheered.

"Heard someone ordered a Christmas tree!" Brittany replied.

Once the tree was securely in its stand, and Rachel had made them adjust it 10 times to make sure it was _just_ right, they hung the angel ornaments. Marley poked her head in the bunkhouse door, her hands full of red ribbon.

"Perfect!" Tina smiled and she and Marley tied bows and handed them to Quinn and Mercedes to hang on the tree.

"We're looking awfully festive I'd say," Brittany said, as she stood back and admired their work.

Everyone stood back and smiled, enjoying the tree and their homemade decorations. Santana broke the silence, when she began to sing "White Christmas".

Mercedes, Blaine, Kurt immediately jumped in to sing along, soon followed by Quinn, Tina, Brittany and Rachel. As the group sang verse after verse, then moved into "Silent Night", Brittany pulled Rachel aside. She dug out a box of eight candles and eight empty sardine tins.

"I don't understand," Rachel stuttered.

"Hanukkah starts next week doesn't it? I wanted to make sure you had what you needed," Brittany smiled.

"But...I'm not...how did you…did Quinn?" Rachel couldn't quite figure Brittany out.

"You weren't as careful at hiding your Star of David necklace your first night here. I saw you put it away. It made me sad, that you thought you had to be quiet about it. I understand. But, I hoped, over time, you'd feel comfortable enough to not hide it. So, these candles are just my way of letting you know, I don't think any of us care," Brittany explained.

"You don't know that," Rachel argued in a whisper.

"Rachel, you're a loud, obnoxious, know-it-all. Those are three much bigger reasons to not like you. If I don't care, and apparently Quinn already knows, I guarantee you Kurt and Blaine don't care. You think Tina, Mercedes and Santana - people who know what prejudice is like and don't have the luxury of hiding their difference - care which church you go to?"

"We go to temple, not church," Rachel corrected Brittany.

"Is it nice?" Brittany asked.

"Yes, it's lovely," Rachel smiled.

"Then we're good. When do we get to light the first candle?"

"What candles?" Mercedes asked.

"For Hanukkah. You know, Jews have eight days of celebration, and light a candle each day," Brittany explained.

Mercedes looked at a nervous Rachel, then back to Brittany who looked at her as if to dare her to step out of line.

"Fine by me," Mercedes said with a smile. "The candles will look real pretty in here."

Rachel let out a relieved breath. Everyone gathered and debated on the best place to set up the candles. They couldn't figure out where to set them so they were out of the way, yet Rachel could still reach them. Blaine offered to build her a new shelf for her candles.

* * *

A few days before Christmas, everyone's plans were made. Like Thanksgiving, they would all be going back to Seattle to their families. Santana's father would spend Christmas in England, training with doctors there. Santana was sad her father wouldn't come home on leave, but that sadness was tempered with the knowledge that Christmas at the Pierce home meant alone time with Brittany. Brittany was in a good mood for another reason on top of the fact that she would be sharing her bed with Santana once more.

"I have an announcement to make!" Brittany said with a bang of her spoon on her tin cup.

Everyone around the dinner table stopped talking and paid attention.

"I know we all agreed not to exchange presents, but I couldn't help myself. Since Pop gave us all Christmas eve off, I'm treating you on Christmas Eve _eve_," Brittany grinned.

"What's the treat?" Tina asked.

"We're going out. Drinking, dancing and spending the night being fuckin' irresponsible," Brittany beamed.

"But how? Where?" Mercedes asked with a heavy dose of skepticism.

"I bought out the bar for the night," Brittany replied.

"Wait a minute. How could you afford that?" Quinn asked.

"I asked Jimmy how much he pulls in on a Thursday night. Funny thing, I never got around to spending any of that bet money I won all Summer. So, I figured it was best spent having a good time," Brittany explained. "I have more than enough to cover Jimmy's needs and a few rounds for you fine folks."

"Wait, so the bar is _ours_?" Kurt asked with a big smile.

"Private party. Very exclusive. Only the people sitting here are on the guest list," Brittany replied with happy pride.

* * *

The girls entered the bar in their best dresses, makeup and hair done to perfection. Kurt and Blaine followed, dressed in their suits and freshly shined shoes. Jimmy's was a dark, dirty logging town bar. Only a glowing Rainier sign stood it apart from the cafe or garage. A jukebox lit up the wall opposite the sticky, chipped bar. Wobbly stools with scraped cross bars from years of spiked logging boots sat in disarray under the counter. A few tables filled out the rest of the room.

"Charming," Quinn drolly remarked.

"I've been to some of your Seattle clubs. They're not all that great," Brittany replied.

"You don't stick to the floor as much in Seattle bars," Tina added, as she picked up her foot with some difficulty.

Rachel unwrapped the scarf from her head and placed it on the bar stool before she sat down. Jimmy came out from narrow door behind the end of the bar. Santana thought he walked through sideways just to fit his fat body. Once he fully emerged, she wasn't sure if he was wider sideways or not. His unkempt salt and pepper beard covered some of the stains on his button down mud brown shirt, but not all of them.

"Shit Brittany, I didn't hear you come in. Where's your loggers?" Jimmy asked.

"You're looking at them," Brittany said with her arms gestured to the girls.

"Hummel and Anderson I recognize, but these ladies? I heard they were so rough, you could hardly tell them apart from Karofsky," Jimmy half joked.

"Is that what people have been saying about us?" Tina whispered to Quinn.

"They got all dressed up for you Jimmy," Brittany teased with a wink.

"Bullshit," Jimmy grinned.

He turned to see Tina, Mercedes and Santana in the dim light. He squinted.

"Your old man's still running a goddamned refugee camp up there I see," Jimmy grumbled with a shake of his head.

"All natural born and raised American citizens is what you got here Jimmy. They's making sure our boys, boys like _yours_, got what they need over there. You're not against the war are you Jimmy?" Brittany asked.

"Of course not!"

"You sure you ain't one of those Nazi sympathizers now. You'd tell me if you were, right?" Brittany pressed.

"For fucks sake Pierce, you know me better than that," Jimmy scowled.

"Then for fucks sake Jimmy, pour these fine, upstanding, hard working American gals a goddamned drink!" Brittany demanded with a smile.

"What'll it be Miss?" Jimmy grumbled behind the bar.

"Martini," Quinn replied.

"Ain't got that," Jimmy replied.

"Gin and Tonic?" Quinn asked.

"Figures," Jimmy said as he made Quinn's drink.

"What d'ya want girl?" Jimmy asked Mercedes.

"Jimmy!" Brittany reprimanded. "This here young lady is one of the best loggers we got, man or woman. Fuckin' treat her right."

"Or?" Jimmy pushed.

"You don't get your money," Brittany scowled.

"Miss?" Jimmy asked Mercedes again.

"Bourbon. Top shelf," Mercedes replied with a smug smile.

"Don't matter what shelf it's on," Jimmy replied as he pulled down a bottle.

Mercedes spied the label. "That'll do."

Everyone got their drinks just in time for Blaine to put his money in the juke box. The big band horns blared and everyone tapped their feet to the rhythm of the music. Kurt grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled her out of her chair, nearly spilling her drink. He spun her around in the middle of the bar and they began to dance. Soon Quinn, Blaine, Santana, Tina and Mercedes joined them.

Brittany leaned her back and elbows against the bar and sipped her whiskey. Jimmy wiped the bar top behind her.

"Thanks for hosting Jimmy. I appreciate it. The girls don't get out much," Brittany said as she watched her crew dance.

"Don't thank me. I charged you extra for the coloreds," Jimmy explained with a smirk.

"I know you charged me for a Friday instead of a Thursday. I still appreciate closing the place so they can have some fun without getting shit on," Brittany replied. "Besides you. You, apparently get to shit on them."

"It's _my_ place. Anyways, they seem alright," Jimmy grunted. "I guess."

"They're better than alright," Brittany smiled.

"You ain't just braggin' 'bout them? They really can log?" Jimmy asked.

"You bet your ass they can. Work harder than any man I worked with too. Never underestimate the power of a determined woman Jimmy," Brittany explained.

"I'm married. I know," Jimmy said with a sad laugh.

"I have no idea how she puts up with you," Brittany joked and took another swig of beer.

"She's a saint. Only way to explain it," Jimmy said as he raised his glass in salute to Brittany.

"And nose deaf apparently. When's the last time you took a bath?" Brittany asked.

"Sunday, like always," Jimmy replied, offended.

"Might want to work in a mid-week one too Jim," Brittany said with a scrunched up nose.

Brittany joined her crew on the dance floor. More beer and liquor drank, more cigarettes smoked and song after song came out of the juke box that lit up the hazy dark bar. Santana sat down to cool her feet and drink her beer, when Karofsky and three other loggers came in the door.

"Sign says 'Private Party' Karofsky!" Jimmy yelled over the music.

The girls snapped to attention and stared with wide eyes at the intrusion. Kurt and Blaine puffed out their chests and straightened up. Brittany looked up from her chair and rolled her eyes.

"I know you can read Karofsky, so get the fuck out," Brittany said dismissively.

Karofsky snorted. "Me and my boys want a drink," he replied.

"Obviously he can't read," Quinn commented sourly, her arms across her chest.

"Obviously you can't keep your legs together, so you're not one to talk," Karofsky taunted back.

Quinn's eyes grew wide, her mouth opened, then shut. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes.

"I have no idea what he's talking about," she said to the girls.

"Oh, did Miss Little High and Mighty Fabray not tell her new best friends all about being a tramp with a bastard kid?" Karofsky grinned with evil pleasure.

Mercedes put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn stiffened.

"Liar," Quinn spat, her eyes stung with tears of rage and fear.

"A pristine high society girl like you doesn't choose to come up here and work. Am I lying when I say I found out your sorry excuse for a businessman daddy kicked your hussy ass out of the house, out of the family, and out of your socialite life for good? Am I lying Miss Fabray? Am I?" Karofsky taunted.

"I've heard enough," Mercedes said, as she stepped toward Karofsky and his crew.

"Me too," Tina agree and followed Mercedes.

Karofsky and his boys laughed. "Oh man. This is a hoot. Queen Fabray, got a couple of pet mongrels defending her."

"That's it!" Brittany kicked her own chair from beneath her, and stood up to Karofsky.

"No fights!" Jimmy yelled.

Brittany kicked Karofsky square in the balls.

"Too late," Kurt yelled and ran toward Brittany.

One of Karofsky's men lunged over his bent body and shoved Brittany back. She fell back and banged her face on the corner of a table.

"Jesus Josh. Fuck!" Brittany yelled as she pressed her palm against her face.

Santana found the use of her legs, just a moment ago frozen with fear and jumped on Josh's back, and pounded her fists on his shoulders.

"Go for his eyes!" Rachel yelled from next to Quinn.

"Oh no you don't Rick!" Blaine called, distracting Rick from pulling Santana off Josh.

Blaine punched Rick in the stomach and shoved him down to the floor. Josh reeled with Santana on his back, scratching at his face and pulling his hair, until he backed up against the door, hard, and Santana slid off and to the floor. Josh whirled around to meet Kurt when they all heard the distinct pump of a shotgun. Everyone stopped.

"I _said_ no fighting," Jimmy said, holding a shotgun over the bar.

Josh pulled Karofsky up from being bent over and cupping his balls. He tugged Rick onto his feet and stood in front of the door and a limp Santana, holding the back of her head. Tina and Mercedes rushed to her side and pulled her up and walked her back to Quinn and Rachel. Blaine and Kurt stood panting, with their arms tight across their chests, staring at Karofsky, Rick and Josh.

"Go on. Get!" Jimmy yelled at the men.

They left quietly and slammed the door behind them. Kurt went to Brittany and pulled her hand away from her face.

"That's going to be one helluva shiner Brittany," Kurt said with a smile. "You okay?"

"I'll live. How's Santana?" Brittany asked with worry in her eyes.

Kurt looked over at Mercedes and Tina, hovering over her as they sat her in a chair.

"Looks like she got her bell rung," Kurt informed her.

"Get her some ice," Brittany ordered as she got up, unsteady.

"Whoa there bruiser. Let me get you some ice too," Kurt cautioned.

Jimmy provided the ice and his cleanest rags, which Kurt thought weren't any cleaner than his socks after a full day's work. He handed one to Mercedes to apply to Santana's head and one to Brittany to put on her cheek. Jimmy set up nine shot glasses on the bar and poured whiskey into all of them. He picked one up and saluted the crew, then drank it in one quick swallow. The logging crew slowly made their way to the bar and grabbed their drinks and downed them together.

"Remind me not to piss you off Brittany. Or your little Mexican jumpin' bean over there," Jimmy chuckled as he wiped the bar with a dirty wet rag.

"Her name is Santana," Brittany growled.

"Wild cat is more like it," Jimmy replied.

Santana groaned at the talk. Everything was too loud for her pounding headache.

"I think this party is over," Mercedes lamented.

"Let's go home," Tina agreed.

Back at the bunkhouse, Santana slumped onto her bed, the rag of ice dropped onto the floor next to her. Brittany examined her face in the mirror and watched the swelling and bruise grow. Rachel sat on her bed and watched Quinn, still standing near the center of the room, quiet and vibrating with anger.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Rachel asked.

Quinn lifted her head high, then spun around.

"No! No I am not okay!" she screamed. "This was the one place. The _one_ place I could escape from all the gossip, and looks, and judgement and _shame_ of Seattle. Now it's here. Now you know," Quinn spat. "It follows me _everywhere_!"

Angry frustrated tears welled in her eyes.

"Quinn, calm down. We don't care about that stuff," Brittany replied.

"Yeah, Quinn, really, it's okay," Tina added.

"Just relax," Mercedes said.

"I will _not_ calm down! You don't know what it's like to have a whole god damned city shun you. _No_ friends, _no_ family. _No_ one would hire me. Nothing. I lost _everything_. I have _nothing. _Not even an _ounce _of privacy. How would _you_ like it if I aired all your dirty laundry for everyone to hear? Huh? How about Tina, who has a Japanese boyfriend in the detention camps? Isn't _that _why your family's restaurant went out of business? And you Mercedes. You? How about if I told everyone about your _white_ boyfriend and how your boss found out and that's why you're working up _here_ and not in the city? Would that relax you? And Brittany. You want everyone here to know how people in town _still_ talk about you kissing a girl in high school? Hmm? And Santana over there," Quinn turned.

Santana's heart leaped into her throat.

"I couldn't find anything on you. It's like you don't even exist outside your father's medical practice," Quinn complained. She turned to Brittany. "She's your god damned little brown nosing teacher's pet. What else has she got on you to get all this special treatment, huh? And Marley. Sweet, mute little Marley. She was practically feral when you picked her up like a stray dog, wasn't she Brittany?"

Brittany took two steps and slapped Quinn across the face.

"Enough," Brittany snarled just inches from Quinn's smarting cheek. "That's _enough_, Quinn."

Brittany stepped back and looked around her, everyone stared at Quinn, shocked.

Brittany took a deep breath. Her face softened. "It was my first game of spin the bottle," Brittany confessed to the room. "I didn't know you could skip. So I didn't," she shrugged and looked over at Tina.

"Mike's parents were sent to the internment camp, not Mike. He went to care for them. His father isn't well. They co-own the restaurant with my parents. With them gone, we couldn't keep it open," Tina explained.

"Sam _is_ white. He followed me all the way up from Alabama when we were barely teenagers. Got work as a gardener when I started keeping house. He's on a ship in the Pacific somewhere now," Mercedes sighed wistfully as she explained.

Everyone but Quinn smiled at that sigh. Brittany looked over at Santana and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I...I don't have anything on Brittany. We're just friends, that's all," Santana replied.

"And Marley," Brittany said to Quinn. "Was held against her will and abused for years by an awful man. I got her out of there and Pop took her in. End of story."

Quinn studied her expensive shoes and the pine needles stuck to the sole.

"Now here's the real secret Quinn, so listen up. We all knew about you the first week you were here," Brittany explained in a soft tone.

Quinn looked up at Brittany and the around to the others. They all nodded, with small smiles.

"You're a smart girl, so you know, we didn't treat you any different than anybody else these past six months, did we?" Brittany asked.

Quinn shook her head, and looked up to the ceiling.

"I know that high falutin' society life trades in personal blackmail like gold where you come from, but you should know better that it doesn't fly here," Brittany explained. "All we care about is if you can do the work, and you've more than proven you can."

"Old habits die hard, I guess," Quinn said in a defeated tone.

Brittany nodded and put her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"If you need a family, you got us. We're not much, but we're better than nothin'. You're welcome to stay with us here for Christmas," Brittany offered.

Quinn let out a shaky breath and a smile. She nodded.

"Thank you, but Rachel already offered, and I liked helping at the USO show last month," Quinn replied.

Brittany wrapped her arm around Quinn. Rachel, Tina, Mercedes walked over to join them. Santana winced as she got up off her bed. She slowly walked over with a small smile.

"The letter, before Thanksgiving…what was it?" Santana asked carefully.

"My mother telling me my baby got adopted, and that my _own_ mother would be out of town, so I had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving. Not even home," Quinn sadly confessed with a teary sniffle.

Quinn looked around at the group of women surrounding her. "I'm sorry I dug up all that dirt on you," Quinn apologized.

No one said anything. They all just moved in and hugged Quinn. They knew. They understood. Anything to keep some sense of control in their lives, they did it. They all kept something back that was theirs. That could be used against them. But like Brittany said, there, up in the woods, it really didn't matter. They were safe. For now.

* * *

Brittany and Santana entered the Pierce home just in time for dinner on Christmas Eve. Brittany led Santana up the stairs to deposit their overnight bags. Santana hovered in the room a moment after Brittany left and let the memories of that bed and their first kiss wash over her. For weeks she had stayed those memories, those feelings, for her own sanity's sake. But now - here in Brittany's home, in her bedroom - Santana let down the walls and let in the joy of their first kiss.

Santana returned downstairs to find Mr. Pierce with Brittany's face in his hands, inspecting her black eye.

"What have I told you about getting into fights? You're not a kid anymore you know," Alex chided.

"They were being rude," Brittany replied.

"Who's 'they'?" Alex asked.

Brittany shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm your father, I'm supposed to worry about you."

"I'm fine Pop. Won't happen again. Promise," Brittany assured him.

After dinner and drinks by the fire, Marley and Alex said goodnight. Santana was curled up in a chair, watching the flames dance in the fireplace and sipped the last of her hot toddy. The radio played Christmas music, quietly in the background

"May I have this dance?" Brittany asked.

Santana set down her drink and smiled. She looked toward the stairs and back near the kitchen.

"You may," she said.

Brittany grinned and stood up, her hand held out for Santana to take. Brittany led Santana to the middle of the living room rug and put her hand gently on Santana's waist and the other still gripped her hand.

"I'm not a very good dancer," Santana apologized.

Brittany moved her hand around the small of Santana's back and pulled her closer.

"You're perfect," Brittany said, as they began to sway to the music.

Santana smiled and bowed her head in bashfulness. Brittany smiled back and took Santana for a slow turn around the living room, until she stopped near the book shelves.

"Would you look at that," Brittany said with a grin.

"What?" Santana asked, then turned around and followed Brittany's eye line up. Mistletoe.

"Brittany," Santana cooed softly.

Brittany let go of Santana's hand and tucked a stray hair behind Santana's ear. Santana's felt the nervous rush of anticipation. She giggled.

"What?" Brittany asked, moving closer to kiss Santana.

"I'm just...happy. That's all," Santana replied.

"Good," Brittany whispered, and softly kissed Santana.

Santana melted into that kiss. It had been a few weeks since their little rendezvous in the woods, and kissing Brittany now felt like emerging from the desert and finally quenching her thirst.

"Let's go to bed," Brittany whispered against Santana's lips.

"Yes," Santana breathed.

Santana and Brittany crept quietly upstairs and walked past her snoring father's bedroom. Brittany closed her bedroom door behind them and they quickly got changed into their nightgowns, giddy with anticipation. Brittany gently shoved Santana into bed and crawled under the covers next to her. Once she turned out the small lamp light, the room was pitch black. Not a sliver of moon shone in the sky. Back in this bed. The bed where they both discovered each other and themselves for the first time. This bed was confirmation that, after months of wondering, wishing and second guessing, they were not alone.

Lying on her side, Santana blindly reached out under the covers to embrace Brittany. Her hand felt the soft curve of Brittany's waist. Or so she thought. She then felt Brittany's bicep curl over and heard her gasp.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Santana apologized and moved her hand down to Brittany's waist.

Her face had never felt hotter with embarrassment. She felt the sweat on her palm seep into Brittany's flannel nightgown. Brittany scooted closer and rubbed her nose against Santana's.

"Mmm, don't ever apologize for touching me there," Brittany smiled.

Santana didn't know what to say. Brittany liked her touching her breast. Brittany _wanted_ her to. Santana squeezed Brittany's waist and kissed her. Words just weren't coming to mind now. Only Brittany. Brittany's taste. Brittany's body. Brittany's everything.

Brittany still felt the ghost of Santana's hand on her chest, and missed it already. Brittany kissed Santana harder, and pressed Santana onto her back. She needed to feel closer. To feel Santana's breasts under hers. To feel her heart beat fast rhythms against her own. Santana let out a little moan when she felt Brittany scoot on top of her. It was a sensation Santana didn't think she'd ever get used to. Soft, and warm, pressured and heated, safe and reckless. Santana felt Brittany's tongue swipe along hers, and Brittany's hips and a leg press down. It felt amazing and everything in Santana's body was keyed to every inch of Brittany. Until she remembered Thanksgiving weekend. Through the haze of lips and tongues and soft moans, Santana had a moment of clarity, and shifted her legs from underneath Brittany.

"What's wrong?" Brittany whispered as she kissed under Santana's jaw and under her ear.

"Nothing, I just...didn't want a repeat of...god...uh...the last time," Santana managed to reply.

Brittany paused her lips on Santana's neck and smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Sorry 'bout that," Brittany said, and returned to kissing Santana's lips. "I was just…"

"We were both…" Santana replied.

"We got ahead of ourselves," Brittany explained.

Santana nodded and kissed Brittany's now swollen lips again. Their grips tightened on each other as their tongues danced and dove and played. Always seeking more, more, more. Santana felt Brittany's hand move up her side. Her fingers ran lightly over her ribs. She felt Brittany's arms pull away from their snug fit against her body and nudge at Santana's. Santana let her hands fall to Brittany side. Her thumbs played softly along Brittany's rib cage. Brittany moved her hand up until it rested just underneath Santana's breast. Santana moaned into their kiss and her back arched in response.

Brittany nipped at Santana's lip as she pulled away and rested her forehead against Santana's.

"Please, I want you to," Brittany panted, and shifted her chest off Santana, forcing Santana's hands to graze the side of her breast.

Santana's mouth went dry. She could feel Brittany's fingers feather out along her side. Searching. Daring.

"If you want to," Brittany added.

Santana didn't move. She didn't speak.

"Do you want to? I want to, " Brittany asked and confessed.

Oh god yes did she ever want to. Santana had unconsciously at first, then very consciously, wondered what Brittany's breasts felt like for months now. She looked at them every day in the shower. They mesmerized and unnerved her. Santana worried this would mean something more than just kissing. Would it mean there was no going back? If there was no going back, what was the way forward?

"Santana?" Brittany whispered.

Brittany felt Santana's hand twitch at the side of her breast, and felt her nod against her forehead. Brittany bit her lip and smiled. She kissed Santana slowly, carefully, sweetly, softly. When Santana relaxed into the kiss, Brittany took a chance and rubbed her thumb gently along the underside of Santana's breast. She felt her muscles twitch and her chest rise to meet her hand. Santana felt so soft. Brittany was surprised at how soft she felt. Santana felt like magic.

Santana felt a little kick of confidence from Brittany braving to touch her more. Brittany made it okay for her to be curious. To want. It also made her lose all thought. She had those breasts all her life, and never did she think someone else touching them would feel so good. She wanted Brittany to feel that good. She hoped it felt half as good for Brittany as it did for her.

Brittany thought her brain actually melted when she felt Santana's hot palm cover her breast and her thumb trace the contour. All she could do was gasp and moan approval into their increasingly messy kiss.

They both felt like they were in their own wonderland. Lost in a cloud of sheets and blankets and flannel nightgowns. They touched each other with curiosity, with want, with reverence. Their hands felt like an extension of their whole bodies. And their whole bodies hummed and sang with delight.

* * *

**A/N: **Just so you know, next chapter will start in the Spring. 5 month time jump. Fair warning!


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